a/. 


s^ 


LANGUAGE , 


AW 


THE  STUDY  OF  LANGUAGE: 


TWELVE   LECTURES 

OV  THB 

PRINCIPLES  OP  LINGUISTIC  SCIENCE 


BY 


WILLIAM  DWIGHT  WHITNEY, 

PROFE8SOK  OF  SANSKEIT  AND  INSTRUCTOR  IN  MODERN  LANOITAGES 
IN  TALE  COLLEGE. 


FIFTH       EDITION, 


NEW  YORK: 
SCRIBNEE,,    ARMSTRONG    &    CO., 

654    BROADWAY. 

1874. 


f7^i- 


Jlntered  acoordir.g  to  Act  of  Conjrress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

Chaeles  Scribneb  &  Company, 

In  ibe  Clerk's  Oflice  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Uuited  Statet  for  Iht 

bcuthem  District  of  New  Ycurk. 


John  F.  Trow  &  Son. 

primkks  am)  dookbindkkp, 

205-213  East  \2th  St., 

NEW    VOKK. 


UJq, 


TO 


JAMES  HADLEY, 


PROFESSOR    OF   GREEK    IN    YALE   COLLEaE, 


VmU    TEUIT   OF   STUDIES    WHICH    HE   HAS   DONE    MOU 


THAN   ANY   ONE   ELSE   TO    ENCOURAGE   AND   AID 


la   AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED. 


1 


PREFACE. 


The  main  argument  of  tlie  following  work  was  first 
drawn  out  in  tlie  form  of  six  lectures  "  On  the  Principles 
of  Linguistic  Science/'  delivered  at  tlie  Smithsonian  Insti- 
tution, in  Washington,  during  the  month  of  March,  1864. 
Of  these,  a  brief  abstract  was  printed  in  the  Annual 
Report  of  the  Institution  published  in  the  same  year.* 
In  the  following  winter  (December,  1864,  and  January, 
1865)  they  were  again  delivered  as  one  of  the  regular 
courses  before  the  Lowell  Institute,  in  Boston,  having 
been  expanded  into  a  series  of  twelve  lectures.  They  are 
now  laid  before  a  wider  public,  essentially  in  their  form  as 
there  presented.  But  they  have  been  in  the  mean  time 
carefully  rewritten,  and  have  suffered  a  not  inconsiderable 
further  expansion,  as  the  removal  of  the  enforced  Pro- 
crustean limit,  of  sixty  minutes  to  a  lecture,  has  given 
opportunity  to  discuss  with  greater  fulness  important 
points  in  the  general  argument  which  had  before  come  off 
with  insufficient  treatment.  The  chief  matter  of  theory 
upon  which  my  opinion  has  undergone  any  noteworthy 
modification  is  the  part  to  be  attributed  to  the  onomato- 
poetic  principle  in  the  first  steps  of  language-making  (see 
the  eleventh  lecture).     To  this  principle,  at  each  revision 

♦  Rqwrt  for  1863,  pp.  95-116. 


VI  PREFACE, 

of  my  views,  I  have  been  led  to  assign  a  higher  and 
higher  efficiency,  partly  by  the  natural  effect  of  a  deeper 
study  and  clearer  appreciation  of  the  necessary  conditions 
of  the  case,  partly  under  the  influence  of  valuable  works 
upon  the  subject,  recently  issued.*  In  the  general  style 
of  presentation  I  have  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  make 
any  change — not  even  to  cast  out  those  recapitulations 
and  repetitions  which  are  well-nigh  indispensable  in  a 
course  of  lectures  meant  for  oral  delivery,  though  they 
may  and  should  be  avoided  in  a  work  intended  from  the 
outset  for  continuous  reading  and  study. 

More  than  one  of  the  topics  here  treated  have  been 
from  time  to  time  worked  up  separately,  as  communica- 
tions to  the  American  Oriental  Society,  and  are  concisely 
reported  in  its  Proceedings ;  also,  within  no  long  time 
past,  I  have  furnished,  by  request,  to  one  or  two  of  our 
leading  literary  periodicals,  papers  upon  special  themes 
in  linguistic  science  which  were,  to  no  small  extent, 
virtual  extracts  from  this  work. 

The  principal  facts  upon  which  my  reasonings  are 
founded  have  been  for  some  time  past  the  commonplaces 
of  comparative  philology,  and  it  was  needless  to  refer  for 
them  to  any  particular  authorities  :  where  I  have  consci- 
ously taken  results  recently  won  by  an  individual,  and  to 
be  regarded  as  his  property,  I  have  been  careful  to 
acknowledge  it.  It  is,  however,  my  dutj^  and  my  pleasure 
here  to  confess  my  special  obligations  to  those  eminent 
y^/masters  in  linguistic  science.  Professors  Heinrich  Steiuthal 
of  Berlin  and  August  Schleicher  of  Jena,  whose  works  -f 

♦  I  will  refer  only  to  ^fr  Farrar's  "  Chapters  on  Lanq-uaore  "  (London, 
I860),  and  to  Professor  Wedgwood's  little  book,  "  On  the  Origin  of  Lan- 
guugr>"  (London,  ISr^G). 

t  As  chief  among  them,  I  would  mention  Steinthal's  "  Cbarakteristik  del 


PREFACE.  Vii 

I  have  liad  constantly  upon  my  table,  and  liave  freely 
consulted,  deriving  from  tliem  great  instruction  and 
enlightenment,  even  wlien  I  have  been  obliged  to  dififec 
most  strongly  from  some  of  their  theoretical  views.  Upon 
them  I  have  been  dependent,  above  all,  in  preparing  my 
eighth  and  ninth  lectures  ;*  my  independent  acqaaintance 
with  the  languages  of  various  type  throughout  the  world 
being  far  from  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  describe  them  at 
first  hand.  I  have  also  borrowed  here  and  there  an  illus- 
tration from  the  "  Lectures  on  the  Science  of  Language '' 
of  Professor  Max  IMiiller,  which  are  especially  rich  in  such  O 
material. 

To  my  friend  Professor  Fitz-Edward  Hall,  Librarian 
of  the  East  India  Office  in  London,  I  have  to  return  my 
thanks  for  his  kindness  in.  undertaking  the  burdensome 
task  of  reading  the  revise  of  the  sheets,  as  they  went 
through  the  press. 

It  can  hardly  admit  of  question  that  at  least  so  much 
knowledge  of  the  nature,  history,  and  classifications  of 
language  as  is  here  presented  ought  to  be  included  in 
every  scheme  of  higher  education,  even  for  those  who  do 
not  intend  to  become  special  students  in  comparative  phil- 
ology. Much  more  necessary,  of  course,  is  it  to  those  who 
cherish  such  an  intention.  It  is,  I  am  convinced,  a  mis- 
take to  commence  at  once  upon  a  course  of  detailed  com- 
parative philology  with  pupils  who  have  only  enjoyed  the 
ordinary  training  in  the  classical  or  the  modern  languages, 

Hauptsachlichsten  Typen  des  Sprachbaues  "  (Berlin,  1860),  and  Schleicher's 
"  Compendium  der  Vergleichenden  Grammutik  der  ludogermanischen  Spra- 
chen"  (Weimar,  1861;  a  new  edition  has  appeared  this  year) :  other  writings 
of  both  authors,  of  less  extent  and  importance,  are  referred  to  by  name  in  the 
marginal  notes  upon  the  text. 

'  I  should  mention  also  my  indebtedness,  as  regards  the  Semitic  lan- 
guages, to  the  admirable  work  of  M.  Ernest  Renan,  the  "  Ilistoire  Generale 
des  LanguDS  Semitiques"  (seconde  edition,  Paris,  18-58). 

V 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

or  in  both.  They  are  hable  either  to  fail  of  apprehending 
the  vahie  and  interest  of  the  infinity  of  particulars  into 
which  they  are  plunged^  or  else  to  become  wlioUy  absorbed 
in  them,  losing  sight  of  the  grand  truths  and  principles 
which  underlie  and  give  significance  to  their  work,  and 
the  recognition  of  which  ought  to  govern  its  course 
throughout :  perhaps  even  coming  to  combine  with  acute- 
ness  and  erudition  in  etymological  investigation  views 
respecting  the  nature  of  language  and*  the  relations  of 
languages  of  a  wholly  crude  or  fantastic  character.  I  am 
not  without  hope  that  this  book  may  be  found  a  conve- 
nient and  serviceable  manual  for  use  in  our  higher  institu- 
tions of  learning.  I  have  made  its  substance  the  basis  of 
my  own  instruction  in  the  science  of  language,  in  Yale  Col- 
lege, for  some  years  past ;  and,  as  it  appears  to  me,  with 
gratifying  success.  In  order  to  adapt  it  to  such  a  pur- 
pose, I  have  endeavoured  to  combine  a  strictly  logical 
and  scientific  plan  with  a  popular  mode  of  handling,  and 
with  such  illustration  of  the  topics  treated  as  shoukl  be 
easily  and  universally  apprehensible.  If,  however,  the 
lecture  style  should  be  found  too  discursive  and  argu- 
mentative for  a  text-book  cf  instruction,  I  may  perhaps 
be  led  hereafter  to  prepare  another  work  for  that  special 
use. 

Yale  College, 
Heic  Haveyi,  Conn.y 
August,  1867. 


CONTENTS. 


t»^.  PAGl 

I.  Introductory :  history,  material,  objects  of  linguistic  science  ; 
plan  of  these  lectures.  Fundamental  inquiry.  How  we 
acquired  our  speech,  and  what  it  was  ;  Jitferences  of  indi- 
vidual speech.  What  is  the  English  language  ;  how  kept 
in  existence ;  its  changes.  Modes  and  causes  of  linguistic 
change.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .         i 

II.  Nature  of  the  force  which  produces  the  changes  of  language ; 
its  modes  of  action.  Language  an  institution,  of  his- 
torical growth ;  its  study  a  moral  science.  Analogies  of 
linguistic  science  with  the  physical  sciences.  Its  methods 
historical,  Etyraolog>'  its  foundation.  Analysis  of  com- 
pound words.  Genesis  of  affixes.,^  Nature  of  all  words  as 
produced  by  actual  composition.         .  .  .  .  .  .       H 

ni.  Phonetic  change  ;  its  ground,  action  on  compound  words, 
part  in  word-making,  and  destructive  effects.  Replace- 
ment of  one  mode  of  formal  distinction  by  another. 
Extension  of  analogies.  Abolition  of  valuable  distinc- 
tions. Conversion  of  sounds  into  one  another.  Physical 
characters  of  alphabetic  sounds  ;  physical  scheme  of  the 
English  alphabet  Obsolescence  and  loss  of  words. 
Changes  of  meaning ;  their  ground  and  methods.  Variety 
of  meanings  of  one  word.  Synonyms.  Conversions  of 
physical  into  spiritual  meaning.  Attenuation  of  mean- 
ing ;  production  of  form- words.  Variety  of  derivatives 
from  one  root.  Unreflectiveness  of  the  process  of  making 
names  and  forms.  Conceptions  antedate  their  names. 
Reason  of  a  name  historical,  and  founded  in  convenience, 
not  necessity.  Insignificance  of  derivation  in  practical 
use  of  language.    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .       ng 

IV.  Varying  rate  and  kind  of  linguistic  growth,  and  causes  affect- 
ing it.     Modes  of  growth  of  the  English  language.      In- 


X  CONTENTS. 

LECT.  P\GB 

fluences  conservative  of  linguistic  identity  Causes  pro- 
ducing dialects;  causes  maintaining,  producing,  or  ex- 
tending homogeneity  of  speech.  Illustrations :  history 
of  the  German  language;  of  the  Latin  ;  of  the  English. 
The  English  language  in  America.     .  .  .  .  .  .      136 

V.  Erroneous  views  of  tjie  relations  of  dialects.  Dialectic 
variety  implies  original  unity.  Effect  of  cultivation  on  a 
language.  Grouping  of  languages  by  relationship.  Nearer 
and  remoter  relations  of  the  English.  Constitution  of  the 
Indo-European  family.  Proof  of  its  unity.  Impossibility 
of  determining  the  place  and  time  of  its  founders ;  their 
culture  and  customs,  inferred  from  their  restored  vocabu- 
lary.    . .  . .  . .  . .  . .  . .    i7e 

VI.  Languages  and  literatures  of  the  Germanic,  Slavonic,  Lithu- 
anic,  Celtic,  Italic,  Greek,  Iranian,  and  Indian  branches 
of  Indo-European  speech.  Interest  of  the  family  and  its 
study  ;  historical  importance  of  the  Indo-European  races  ; 
their  languages  the  basis  of  linguistic  science.  Method 
of  linguistic  research.  Comparative  philology.  Errors 
of  linguistic  method  or  its  application.  .  .  .  .     209 

Vll.  Beginnings  of  Indo-European  language.  Actuality  of  linguia 
tic  analysis.  Koots,  pronominal  and  verbal ;  their 
character  as  the  historical  germs  of  our  language  ;  devel- 
opment of  inlkctive  speech  from  them.  Production  of 
declensional,  conjugational,  and  derivative  apparatus, 
and  of  the  parts  of  speech.  Relation  of  synthetic  and 
analytic  forms.  General  character  and  course  of  inflective 
development.         .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .     249 

Till.  Families  of  languages,  how  established.  Characteristic 
featuri's  of  Indo-European  language.  Semitic  family  :  its 
constitution,  historic  value,  literatures,  and  linguistic 
character  Relation  of  Semitic  to  Indo-European  lan- 
guage. Scythian  or  Altaic  family  :  its  five  branches : 
their  history,  literatures,  and  chamctcr.  Unity  of  the 
family  somewhat  doubtful.  .  ,  .  .  .  .     288 

IX.  Uncertainties  of  genetic  classification  of  languages.  "Tura- 
nian" family.  Dravidian  group.  North-eastern  Asiatic. 
Monosyllabic  tongues:  Chinese,  Farther  Indian,  Tibetan, 
etc.  Malay-Polynesian  and  MelanesiaTi  familico  Egyptian 
language  and  its  asserted  kindred  :  Hamitic  fami'y.  Lan- 
guages of  southern  and  central  Africa.  La-nguages  of 
America  :  problem  of  derivation  of  American  races. 
Isolated  tongues  :  Basque,  Caucasian,  etc.         • .  .  .     32S 


CONTEXTS. 

LECT.  PAa« 

X.  Classification  of  languages.  Morphological  classifications ; 
their  defects.  Schleicher's  morphological  notation. 
Classification  by  general  rank.  Superior  value  of  genetic 
division.  Bearing  of  linguistic  science  on  ethnology. 
Comparative  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  linguistic 
and  physical  evidence  of  race.  Indo-European  language 
and  race  mainly  coincident.  Difficulty  of  the  ethnolo- 
gical problem.  Inability  of  language  to  prove  either  unity 
or  variety  of  human  species.  Accidental  correspondences  : 
futility  of  root  comparisons.  .  .  .  .  .  .     35S 

XL  Origin  of  language.  Conditions  of  the  problem.  In  what 
sense  language  is  of  divine  origin.  Desire  of  communi- 
cation the  immediate  impulse  to  its  production.  Lan- 
guage and  thought  not  identical.  Thought  possible 
without  language.  Difference  of  mental  action  in  man 
and  lower  animals.  Language  the  result  and  means  of 
analytic  thought,  the  aid  of  higher  thought.  The  voice 
as  instrument  of  expression.  Acts  and  qualities  the  first 
things  named.  The  '  bow-wow,'  'pooh-pooh,'  and  '  ding- 
dong  '  theories.  Onomatopoeia  the  true  source  of  first 
utterances.  Its  various  modes  and  limitations.  Its  traces 
mainly  obliterated.    Kemaining  obscurities  of  the  problem.     395 

XII.  Wiiy  men  alone  can  speak.  Value  of  speech  to  man.  Train- 
ing involved  in  the  acquisition  of  language.  Red  ex  in- 
fluence of  language  on  mind  and  history.  Writing  the 
natural  aid  and  complement  of  speech.  Fundamental 
idea  of  written  speech.  Its  development.  Symbolic  and 
mnemonic  objects.  Picture  writing.  Egj'ptian  hieroglyphs. 
Chinese  writing.  Cuneiform  characters.  Syllabic  modes 
of  writing.  The  Phenician  alphabet  and  its  descendants. 
Greek  and  Latin  alphabets.  English  alphabet.  English 
orthography.     Rank  of  the  English  among  languages.    .  .     436 


""91^' 


library 

Of  oa^tf^ 


LANGUAGE 


AND 


THE  STUDY  OF  LANGUAGE. 


LECTURE  I. 


Introductory  :  history,  material,  objects  of  linguistic  science  ;  plan  of 
these  lectures.  Fundamental  inquiry.  How  we  acquired  our  speech, 
and  wliat  it  was;  differences  of  individual  speech.  Wliat  is  the  English 
language  ;  how  kept  in  existence  ;  its  changes.  Modes  and  causes  of 
linguistic  change. 

Those  who  are  engaged  in  the  investigation  of  language 
have  bnt  recently  begun  to  claim  for  their  study  the  rank 
and  title  of  a  science.  Its  development  as  such  has  been 
w  holly  the  work  of  the  present  century,  although  its  germs 
go  back  to  a  much  more  ancient  date.  It  has  had  a  history, 
iti  fact,  not  unlike  that  of  the  other  sciences  of  observation 
and  induction — for  example,  geology,  chemistry,  astronomy, 
physics — which  the  intellectual  activity  of  modern  times  has 
built  up  upon  the  scanty  observations  and  crude  inductions 
of  other  days.  Men  have  ahvays  been  learning  languages, 
in  greater  or  less  measure  ;  adding  to  their  own  mother- 
tongues  the  idioms  of  the  races  about  them,  for  the  practical 
end  of  communication  with  those  races,  of  access  to  their 
thought  and  knov»ledge.  There  has,  too,  hardly  been  a  time 
when  some  have  not  been  led  on  from  the  acquisition  of 
languages  to  the  study  of  language.  The  interest  of  this 
precious  and  wonderful  possession  of  man,  at  once  the  siga 
and  the  means  of  his  superiority  to  the  rest  of  the  animal 

1 


1'  HISTORY   OP  [LECT. 

creation,  has  in  all  ages  strongly  impressed  the  reflecting  and 
philosophical,  and  impelled  them  to  speculate  respecting  its 
nature,  its  history,  and  its  origin.  Eesearches  into  the 
genealogies  and  affinities  of  ^vords  have  exercised  the  in- 
genuity of  numberless  generations  of  acute  and  inquiring 
minds.  Moreover,  the  historical  results  attainable  by  such 
researches,  the  light  cast  by  them  upon  the  derivation 
and  connection  of  races,  have  never  wholly  escaped  re- 
cognition. The  general  objects  and  methods  of  linguistic 
study  are  far  too  obviously  suggested,  and  of  far  too  engaging 
interest,  not  to  have  won  a  certain  ihare  of  regard,  from 
the  time  when  men  first  began  to  inquire  into  things  and 
their  causes. 

jS'othing,  however,  that  deserved  the  name  of  a  science 
was  the  result  of  these  older  investigations  in  the  domain  of 
language-,  any  more  than  in  those  of  chemistry  and  astronomy. 
Hasty  generalizations,  baseless  hypotheses,  inconclusive  de- 
ductions, were  as  rife  in  the  former  department  of  study  as 
they  were  in  the  two  latter  while  yet  passing  through  the 
preliminary  stages  of  alchemy  and  astrology.  The  difficulty 
was  in  all  the  cases  nearly  the  same ;  it  lay  in  the  paucity  of 
observed  facts,  and  in  the  faulty  position  which  the  inquirer 
assumed  toward  them.  There  had  been  no  sufficient  collec- 
tion and  classification  of  phenomena,  to  serve  as  the  basis  of 
inductive  reasoning,  for  the  establishment  of  sound  methods 
and  the  elaboration  of  true  results  ;  and  along  with  this,  and 
partly  in  consequence  of  it,  prejudice  and  assumption  had 
usurped  the  place  of  induction.  National  self-sufficiency  and 
inherited  prepossession  long  helped  to  narrow  the  limits 
imposed  by  unfiivourable  circumstances  upon  the  extent  of 
linguistic  knowledge,  restraining  that  liberality  of  inquiry 
which  is  indispensable  to  the  growth  of  a  science.  Ancient 
])eople8  were  accustomed  to  think  each  its  own  dialect  the 
only  true  language ;  other  tongues  were  to  them  mere  bar- 
barous jargons,  unworthy  of  study.  Modern  nations,  in 
virtue  of  their  history,  their  higher  culture,  and  their  Chris- 
tianity, have  been  much  less  uncharitably  exclusive  ;  and 
their  reverence  for  the  two  classical  idioms,  the  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  for  the  language  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  He- 


I.]  LINGUISTIC    SCIENCE.  3 

brew,  so  widened  their  linguistic  liorizon  as  gradually  to  pre- 
pare the  \Aayfor  juster  and  more  comprehensive -views  of 
the  character  and  history  of  human  speech.  The  restless 
and  penetrating  spirit  of  investigation,  filially,  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  with  its  insatiable  appetite  for  facts,  its 
tendency  to  injluction,  and  its  practical  recognition  of  the 
unity  of  human  interests,  and  of  the  absolute  value  of  all 
means  of  knowledge  respecting  human  conditions  and  his- 
tory, has  brought  about  as  rapid  a  development  in  linguistic 
study  as  in  the  kindred  branches  of  physical  study  to  which 
we  have  already  referred.  The  truth  being  once  recognized 
that  no  dialect,  however  rude  and  humble,  is  without  worth, 
or  without  a  bearing  upon  the  understanding  of  even  the 
most  polished  and  cultivated  tongues,  all  that  followed  was  a 
matter  of  course.  Linguistic  material  was  gathered  in  from 
every  quarter,  literary,  commercial,  and  philanthropic  activity 
combiuingr  to  facilitate  its  collection  and  thoroujjh  examina- 
tion.  Ancient  records  were  brought  to  light  and  deci- 
phered ;  new  languages  were  dragged  from  obscurity  and 
made  accessible  to  study. 

The  recognition,  not  long  to  be  deferred  when  once  atten- 
tion was  turned  in  the  right  direction,  of  the  special  rela- 
tionship of  the  principal  languages  of  Europe  with  one 
another  and  with  the  languages  of  south-western  Asia — the 
establishment  of  the  Indo-European  family  of  languages — 
was  the  turning-point  in  this  history,  the  true  beginning  of 
linguistic  science.  The  great  mass  of  dialects  of  the  family, 
descendants  of  a  common  parent,  covering  a  period  of  four 
thousand  years  with  their  converging  lines  of  development, 
supplied  just  the  ground  which  the  science  needed  to  grow 
up  upon,  working  out  its  methods,  getting  fully  into  view 
its  ends,  and  devising  the  means  of  their  attainment.  The 
true  mode  of  fruitful  investigation  was  discovered  ;  it  ap- 
peared that  a  wide  and  searching  comparison  of  kindred 
idioms  was  the  way  in  which  to  trace  out  their  history,  and 
arrive  at  a  real  comprehension  of  the  life  and  growth  of  lan- 
guage. Comparative  philology,  then,  became  the  handmaid 
of  ethnology  and  history,  the  forerunner  and  founder  of  tha 
science  of  human  speech. 


4    ^'  HISTORY  OF  [lECT. 

No  sir.gle  circumstance  more  powerfully  aided  tlie  onward 
movement  than  the  introduction  to  Western  scholars  of  the 
Sanskrit,  the  ancient  and  sacred  dialect  of  India.  Its  ex- 
ceeding age,  its  remarkable  conservation  of  primitive 
material  and  forms,  its  unequalled  transparency  of  structure, 
give  it  an  indisputable  right  to  the  first  place  among  the 
tongues  of  t]ie  Indo-European  family.  Upon  their  compari- 
son, already  fruitfully  begun,  it  cast  a  new  and  welcome 
light,  displaying  clearly  their  hitherto  obscure  relations, 
rectifying  their  doubtful  etymologies,  illustrating  tlie  laws 
of  research  which  must  be  followed  in  their  study,  and 
in  that  of  all  other  languages.  AVhat  linguistic  science 
might  have  become  without  such  a  basis  as  was  afforded  it 
in  the  Indo-European  dialects,  what  Indo-European  philology 
might  have  become  without  the  help  oFthe  Sanskrit,  it  were 
idle  to  speculate  :  certain  it  is  that  they  could  not  have 
grown  GO  rapidly,  or  reached  for  a  long  time  to  come  the 
state  of  advancement  in  which  we  now  already  behold  them. 
As  a  historical  fact,  the  scientific  study  of  human  speech  is 
founded  upon  the  comparative  philology  of  the  Indo-Eu- 
ropean languages,  and  this  acknowledges  the  Sanskrit  as  its 
most  valuable  means  and  aid. 

But  to  draw  out  in  detail  th.e  history  of  growth  of  lin- 
guistic science  down  to  the  present  time,  with  particular  notice 
of  its  successive  stages,  and  with  due  mention  of  the  scholars 
who  have  helped  it  on,  does  not  lie  within  the  plan  of  these 
lectures.  Interesting  as  the  task  might  be  found,  its  execu- 
tion would  require  more  time  than  we  can  spare  from  topics 
of  more  essential  consequence.*  A  brief  word  or  two  is  all 
we  can  aflbrd  to  the  subject.  Genuaiiy  is,  far  more  than 
any  otlicr  country,  the  birthplace  and  home  of  the  study  of 
language.  There  was  produced,  at  the  beginning  of  this 
century,  the  most  extensive  and  impoitant  of  the  prelimi- 
nary collections  of  material,  specimens  of  dialects  with  ruilo 
attempt  at  their  classification  —  the  "  Mithridates  "  of 
Adelunj]^  and  Vater.  There  Jacob  Grimm  gave  the  first 
exemplification  on  a  grand  scale  of  the  value  and  power  of 

•  For  many  intcrestint^  details,  see  Professor  Max   Muller's  Lectures  oa 
the  Science  of  Language,  first  series,  third  aud  fourth  lectures. 


I.]  LINGUISTIC    SCIENCE.  5 

the  comparative  method  of  investigation  in  language,  in  hia 
grammar  of  the  G-erniaiiic  dialects,  a  work  of  gigantic  labour, 
in  which  each  dialect  was  made  to  explain  the  history  and  cha- 
racter of  all,  and  all  of  each.  There — what  was  of  yet  greater 
consequence — Bopp  laid,  in  1816,  the  foundation  of  Intlo-Eu- 
ropean  comparative  philology,  by  his  "  Conjugation-system  of 
the  Sanskrit  Language,  as  compared  with  the  G-reek,  Latin, 
Persian,  and  Grerman;  "  following  it  later  with  his  Compara- 
tive Grrammar  of  all  the  principal  languages  of  the  Indo- 
European  family — a  work  which,  m.ore  than  any  other,  gave 
shape  and  substance  to  the  science.  There,  too,  the  labours 
of  such  men  as  the  Schlegels,  Pott,  and  Wilhelm  von  Hum- 
boldt, especially  of  the  last-named,  extended  its  view  and 
generalized  its  principles,  making  it  no  longer  an  investiga- 
tion of  the  history  of  a  single-  department  of  human  speech, 
but  a  systematic  and  philosophical  treatment  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  universal  language  and  their  causes.  The  names  of 
Rask,  too,  the  Danish  scholar  and  traveller,  and  of  13ur- 
nouf,  the  eminent  French  savant,  must  not  be  passed  unno- 
ticed among  those  of  the  founders  of  linguistic  science. 
Indeed,  how  ripe  the  age  was  for  the  birth  of  this  new 
branch  of  human  knowledge,  how  natural  an  outgrowth 
it  was  of  the  circumstances  amid  which  it  arose,  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  its  most  important  methods  were  workel  out 
and  applied,  more  or  less  fully,  at  nearly  the  same  time,  by 
several  independent  scholars,  of  different  countries — by 
Rask,  Bopp,  Grimm,  Pott,  Burnouf. 

A  host  of  worthy  rivals  and  followers  of  the  men  whose 
names  we  have  noted  have  arisen  in  all  parts  of  Europe,  and 
even  in  America,  to  continue  the  work  which  these  had 
begun  ;  and  by  their  aid  the  science  has  already  attained  a 
degree  of  advancement  that  is  truly  astonishing,  considering 
its  so  recent  origin.  Though  still  in  its  young  and  rapidly 
growing  stage,  with  its  domain  but  just  surveyed  and  only 
partially  occupied,  its  basis  is  yet  laid  broadly  and  deeply 
enough,  its  methods  and  laws  are  sure  enough,  the  objects  it 
aims  at  and  the  results  it  is  yielding  are  sufEciently  import- 
ant, in  themselves  and  in  their  bearing  upon  other  branches 
of  human  knowledge,  to  warrant  it  in   challenging  a  piac^ 


6  MATERIAL   AND    OBJECTS  [lECT 

among  the  sciences,  as  not  the  least  worthy,  thou<;h  one 
of  the  youngest,  of  their  sisterhood,  and  to  give  it  a  claim 
which  inny  not  be  disregarded  to  the  attention  of  everv  scho- 
lar, and  of  every  ^Ye!l-tducated  person. 

The  material  and  subject  of  linguistic  science  is  language, 
in  its  entirety  ;  all  the  accessible  forms  of  human  speech,  in 
their  infinite  variety,  whether  still  living  in  tlie  minds  and 
moutlis  of  men,  or  preserved  only  in  written  documents,  or 
carved  on  the  scantier  but  more  imperishable  records  of 
brass  and  stone.  It  has  a  field  and  scope  limited  to  no  age, 
and  to  no  portion  of  mankind.  The  dialects  of  the  obscurest 
and  most  humbly  endowed  races  are  its  care,  as  well  as  those 
of  the  leaders  in  the  world's  history.  AVhenever  and  wlier- 
ever  a  sound  has  dropped  from  the  lips  of  a  human  being, 
to  signalize  to  others  the  movements  of  his  spirit,  this  science 
would  fain  take  it  up  and  study  it,  as  having  a  character  and 
office  worthy  of  attentive  examination.  Every  fact  of  every 
language,  in  the  view  of  the  linguistic  student,  calls  for  his 
investigation,  since  only  in  the  light  of  all  can  any  be  com- 
pletely'^ understood.  To  assemble,  arrange,  and  ex[)lain  the 
whole  body  of  linguistic  phenomena,  so  as  thoroughly  to  com- 
prehend them,  in  each  separate  part  and  under  all  aspects, 
is  his  endeavour.  His  province,  while  touching,  on  the  one 
hand,  upon  that  of  the  philologist,  or  student  of  human 
thought  and  knowledge  as  depositeil  in  literary  records,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  u])on  that  of  the  mere  linguist,  or  learner 
of  languages  for  their  practical  use,  and  while  exchanging 
friendly  aid  with  both  of  these,  is  yet  distinct  from  either. 
He  deals  with  language  as  the  instrument  of  thought,  its 
I  means  of  ex})ression,  not  its  record;  he  deals  witli  simple 
words  and  phrases,  not  with  sentences  and  texts.  He  aims 
to  trace  out  the  inner  life  of  language,  to  discover  its  origi;), 
to  follow  its  successive  steps  of  growth,  and  to  deduce  the 
laws  that  govern  its  mutations,  the  recognition  of  which 
shall  account  to  him  for  both  the  unity  and  the  variety  of 
its  present  manifested  phases  ;  and,  along  with  this,  to  appre- 
hend the  nature  of  language  as  a  human  endowment,  its  re- 
lation  to  thought,  its  influence  upou  the  development  of  in- 


I.]  '  or    LINGUISTIC   SCIENCE.  7 

tellect  and  fhe  growtli  of  knowledge,  and  tlie  history  of  mind 
and  of  knowledge  as  reflected  in  it. 

The  exceeding  interest  of  this  whole  class  of  inquiries  i& 
at  first  sight  manifest,  but  it  grows  to  our  sense  in  measure 
as  we  reflect  upon  it.  We  are  apt  to  take  language,  like  so 
manv  other  things  of  familiar  daily  use,  as  a  thing  of  course, 
without  appreciating  the  mystery  and  deep  significance 
which  belong  to  it.  AVe  clothe  our  thouglits  without  effort 
or  reflection  in  words  and  phrases,  having  regard  only  to  the 
practical  ends  of  expression  and  communication,  and  the 
power  conferred  by  them  :  we  do  not  think  of  the  long  his- 
tory, of  changes  of  form  and  changes  of  signification,  through 
which  each  individual  vocable  employed  by  us  has  passed,  of 
the  labour  which  its  origination  and  gradual  elaboration  has 
cost  to  successive  generations  of  thinkers  and  speakers.  We 
do  not  meditate  upon  the  importance  to  us  of  this  capacity 
of  expression,  nor  consider  how  entirely  the  history  of  man 
would  have  been  changed  had  he  possessed  no  such  faculty ; 
how  little  of  that  enlightenment  which  we  boast  would  have 
been  ours,  if  our  ancestors  had  left  no  spoken  memorial  of 
their  mental  and  spiritual  acquisitions  ;  liow,  in  short,  with- 
out  speech,  the  noble  endowments  of  our  nature  would  have 
remained  almost  wholly  undeveloped  and  useless.  It  is,  in- 
deed, neither  to  be  expected  nor  desired  that  our  minds 
should  be  continually  penetrated  with  a  realizing  sense  of 
the  marvellous  character  of  language ;  but  we  should  be  in- 
excusable if  we  neglected  altogetlier  to  submit  it  to  such  an 
examination  as  should  make  us  understand  its  nature  and 
history,  and  should  prepare  our  minds  to  grasp  by  reflection 
its  whole  significance. 

These  and  such  as  these  are  the  objects  most  directly 
aim.ed  at  by  the  scientific  student  of  language.  But  there 
are  others,  of  a  different  character,  to  which  his  investiga- 
tions conduct  him  hardly  less  immediately,  and  which  con- 
stitute an  essential  part  of  the  interest  which  invests  them. 
It  is  a  truth  now  almost  a-s  familiar  as,  fifty  years  ago,  it 
would  have  been  deemed  new  and  startling,  that  language 
furnishes  the  principal  means  of  fruitful  inquiry  into  the 


8    '--^  VALUE    OF    LINGUISTIC    SCIENCE.  [LECT, 

deeds  and  fates  of  mankind  during  the  ages  \Yliicli  precede 
direct  historical  record.  It  enables  us  to  determine,  in  the 
main,  both  the  fact  and  the  degree  of  rehitionship  subsist- 
ing among  the  different  divisions  of  mankind,  and  thus  to 
group  them  together  into  families,  the  members  of  which 
must  have  once  set  forth  from  a  common  home,  with  a  com- 
mon character  and  a  common  culture,  however  widely  separ- 
ated, and  however  unlike  in  manners  and  institutions,  we 
may  find  them  to  be,  when  they  first  come  forth  into  the 
light  of  written  history.  Upon  the  study  of  language  is 
mainly  founded  the  science  of  ethnology,  the  science  which 
investigates  the  genealogy  of  nations.  I  say,  mainly  found- 
ed, without  wishing  to  depreciate  the  claims  of  physical 
science  in  this  regard :  the  relation  between  linguistic  and 
physical  science,  and  their  joint  and  respective  value  to  eth- 
nology, will  be  made  the  subject  of  discussion  at  a  point 
further  on  in  our  inquiries.  But  language  is  also  pregnant 
with  information  respecting  races  which  lies  quite  beyond 
the  reach  of  physical  science  :  it  bears  within  itself  plain 
evidences  of  mental  and  moral  character  and  capacity,  of  de- 
gree of  culture  attained,  of  the  history  of  knowledge,  philo- 
sophy, and  religious  opinion,  of  intercourse  among  peoples, 
and  even  of  the  physical  circuni stances  by  which  those  who 
speak  it  have  been  surrounded.  It  is,  in  brief,  a  volume  of 
the  most  varied  historical  information ,  to  those  who  know 
how  to  read  it  and  to  derive  the  lessons  it  teaches. 

To  survey  the  whole  vast  field  of  linguistic  science,  taking 
even  a  rapid  view  of  all  the  facts  it  embraces  and  the  results 
derived  from  their  examination,  is  obviously  beyond  our 
power  in  a  brief  series  of  lectures  like  the  present.  I  sluiU 
not,  accordingly,  attempt  a  formally  systematic  presentation 
of  the  subject,  laying  out  its  difterent  departments  and  de- 
fining their  limits  and  mutual  relations.  It  will,  I  am  per- 
suaded, be  more  for  our  profit  to  discuss  in  a  somewhat 
general  and  familiar  way  the  fundamental  facts  in  the  life  of 
lanL,'uage,  those  which  exhibit  most  clearly  its  character,  and 
determine  the  method  of  its  study.  AVe  shall  thus  gain  an 
insight  into  the  nature  of  linguistic  evidence,  see  how  it  is 
elicited  from  the  material  containing  it,  and  what  and  how 


I,]  PLAN    OF    THESE    LECTURES.  9 

it  \ias  force  to  prove.  We  sliall,  in  short,  enfleavour  to 
arrive  at  au  apprehension  of  the  fundamental  principles  ol 
the  science.  But  we  shall  also  find  occasion  to  glance  at 
the  main  results  accomplished  by  its  means,  seeking  to  un- 
derstana  wliat  language  is  and  what  is  its  value  to  man,  and 
to  recognize  the  great  truths  in  human  history  which  it  has 
been  instrumental  in  establishing. 

In  order  to  these  ends,  we  shall  first  take  up  one  or  two 
preliminary  questions,  the  discussion  of  which  v\'ill  show  ua 
how  language  lives  and  grows,  and  how  it  is  to  be  investi- 
gated, and  will  guide  us  to  an  understanding  of  the  place 
v.hich  its  study  occupies  among  the  scieiices.  We  shall 
then  go  on  to  a  more  detailed  examination  and  illustration 
of  the  processes  of  linguistic  growth,  and  of  the  manner  in 
which  they  produce  the  incessant  changes  of  form  and  con- 
tent which  language  is  everyv.here  and  always  undergoing. 
We  shall  note,  further,  the  various  causes  which  affect  they 
kind  and  rate  of  linguistic  change.  The  result  of  these 
processes  of  growth,  in  bringing  about  the  separation  of 
languages  into  dialects,  will  next  engage  our  attention. 
This  will  prepare  us  for  a  construction  of  the  group  of 
dialects,  and  the  family  of  more  distantly  related  languages, 
of  which  our  own  English  speech  is.  a  member,  and  for  an 
examination  and  estimate  of  the  evidence  Avhich  proves  them 
related.  The  extent  and  importance,  historical  and  lin- 
guistic, of  this  family  will  be  set  forth,  and  its  course  of  de- 
velopment briefly  sketched.  We  shall  next  pass  in  review 
the  other  great  families  into  which  the  known  forms  of 
human  speech  are  divided,  noticing  their  most  striking 
characteristics.  Then  will  be  taken  up  certain  general 
questions,  of  prime  interest  and  importance,  suggested  by 
such  a  review — as  the  relative  value  and  authority  of  lin- 
guistic and  of  physical  evidence  of  race,  and  the  bearing  of  lan- 
guage upon  the  ultimate  question  of  the  unity  or  variety  of 
the  human  species.  Einally,  we  shall  consider  the  origin  of 
language,  its  relation  to  thought,  and  its  value  as  an  element 
in  human  progress.  And  a  recognition  of  the  aid  which  it 
receives  in  this  -last  respect  from  written  and  recorded 
Bpt'.ech  will  lead  us,  by  way  of  appendix,  to  take  a  cursory 


10  METHOD    OF    TREATMENT.  [LECT. 

view    of  the   historical    clevelopineiit  of  the   art  of  writing. 

Tlie  iiiethod  which  we  shall  follow  will  be,  as  much  aa 
possible,  the  analytic  rather  thau  the  synthetic,  the  in- 
quiring rather  than  tlie  dog.iiatic.  AVe  shall  strive,  above 
all  things,  after  clearness,  and  shall  proceed  always  from 
that  which  is  well-known  or  obvious  to  that  which  is  more 
recondite  and  obscure,  establishing  principles  by  induction 
from  facts  which  lie  within  the  cognizance  of  every  well- 
educated  person.  For  this  reason,  our  examples,  whether 
typical  or  illustrative,  will  be  especially  sought  among  the 
phenomena  of  our  own  familiar  idiom;  since  every  living 
and  growing  language  has  that  within  it  which  exempliiies 
th*e  essential  facts  and  principles  belonging  to  all  human 
speech.  AVe  shall  also  avoid,  as  far  as  is  practicable,  the 
use  of  figurative,  metaphysical,  or  technical  phraseology, 
endeavouring  to  talk  the  language  of  plain  and  homely  fact. 
Not  a  little  of  the  mystery  and  obscurity  which,'  in  the 
minds  of  many,  invest  the  whole  subject  of  language,  is  due 
to  the  common  employment  respecting  it  of  terms  founded 
on  analogies  instead  of  fiicts,  and  calling  up  the  things  they 
represent  surrounded  and  dimmed  by  a  halo  of  fancy,  in- 
stead of  presenting  sharply  cut  outlines  and  distinct  linea- 
ments. 

The  whole  subject  of  linguistic  investigation  may  be  con- 
veniently summed  up  in  the  single  inquiry,  "  Why  do  we 
speak  as  we  do  ?  "  The  essential  character  of  the  study  of 
language,  as  distinguished  from  the  study  of  languages,  lies 
in  this,  that  it  seeks  everywhere,  not  the  facts,  but  the  rea- 
sons of  them  ;  it  asks,  not  how  we  speak,  or  should  speak, 
but  for  what  reason  ;  pursuing  its  search  for  reasons  back  to 
tlie  very  ultimate  facts  of  human  history,  and  down  into  the 
very  depths  of  human  nature.  To  cover  the  whole  ground 
of  investigation  by  this  inquiry,  it  needs  to  be  proposed  in 
more  than  one  sense  ;  as  the  most  fitting  introduction  to 
our  whole  discussion,  let  us  put  it  first  in  its  plainest  and 
most  restricted  meaning :  namely,  why  do  we  ourselvng 
speak  the  English  as  our  mother-tongue,  or  native  language, 
instead  of  any  other  of  the  thousand  varying  forms  of  snt^tM'h 
current  among  men  ?     It  is  indeed  a  simple  question,  but  to 


I.]  WHY   WE    SPEAK    ENGLISH.  11 

answer  t  distinctly  and  trulj  will  lay  the  best  possiblo 
foundation  for  our  further  progress,  clearing  our  way  of 
more  than  one  of  the  imperfect  apprehensions,  or  the  raisa]- 
prehensions,  which  are  apt  to  encumber  the  steps  of  students 
of  language. 

The  general  answer  is  so  obvious  as  hardly  to  require  to 
be  pointed  out :  we  speak  English  because  we  were  taught 
it  by  those  who  surrounded  us  in  our  infancy  and  growing 
age.     It  is  our  mother-tongue,  because  we  got  it  from  the 
lips  of  our  mothers  ;  it  is  our  native  language,  inasmuch  as 
we  were  born,  not  indeed  into  the  possession  of  it,  but  into 
the  company  of  those  who  already  spoke  it,  having  learned 
it  in  the  same  way  before  us.     We  were  not  left  to  our  ov/u 
devices,  to  work  out  for  ourselves  the  great  problem  of  how 
to  talk.      In  our  case,  there  was  no  development  of  language 
out   of   our   own    internal    resources,   by  the  reflection   of 
phenomena  in  consciousness,  or  however  else  we  may  choose 
to  describe  it ;  by  the  action  of  a  natural  impulse,  shaping 
ideas,  and  creating  suitable  expression  for  them.     No  sooner 
were  our  minds  so  far  matured  as  to  be  capable  of  intelli- 
gently associating  an    idea  and  its  sign,  than  we  learned, 
first  to  recognize  the  persons  and  things  about  us,  the  most 
familiar  acts  and  phenomena  of  our  little  world,  by  the  names 
which  others  applied  to  them,  and  then  to  apply  to  them  tlie 
same  names  ourselves.      Thus,  most  of  us  learned  first  of  all 
to  stammer  the  childish  words  for  '  father  '  and  '  mother,'  put, 
for  our  convenience,  in  the  accents  easiest  for  unpractised 
lips  to  frame.     Then,  as  we  grew  on,  we  acquired  daily  more 
and  more,  partly  by  direct  instruction,  partly  by  imitation : 
those  who  had  the  care  of  us  contracted  their  ideas  and  sim- 
plified their  speech  to  suit  our  weak  capacities  ;  they  watched 
with  interest   every   new  vocable  which  we  mastered,  cor- 
rected our  numberless   errors,  explained  what  we  but  half 
understood,  checked  us   when   we  used  longer  words  and 
more  ambitious  phrases  than  we  could  employ  correctly  or 
wield  adroitly,  and   drilled  us  in  the  utterance  of   sounds 
which  come  hard  to  the  beginner.      The  kind  and  degree  of 
the  training  thus  given,  indeed,  varied  greatly  in  difierent 
cases,  as  did  the  provision  made  for  the  necessary  wauts  of 


12  HOW    WS    ACQUIRED  [lECT. 

childhood  in  respect  to  other  matters  ;  as,  foi  .^jiistance,  the 
food,  the  dress,  the  moral  nurture.  Just  as  aome  have  to 
rough  their  way  by  the  hardest  through  the  ucenes  of  early 
life,  beaten,  half-starved,  clad  in  scanty  rags,  ^vhlle  yet  some 
care  and  provision  were  wholly  indispensable,  and  no  child 
could  have  lived  through  infancy  without  them — so,  as  con- 
cerns language,  some  get  but  the  coarsest  and  most  meagre  in- 
struccion,  and  yet  instruction  enough  to  help  them  through 
the  first  stages  of  learning  how  to  speak.  In  the  least 
favourable  circumstances,  there  must  have  been  constantly 
about  every  one  of  us  in  our  earliest  years  an  amount  and 
style  of  speech  surpassing  our  acquirements  and  beyond  our 
reach,  and  our  acquisition  of  language  consisted  in  our  aji- 
propriating  more  and  more  of  this,  as  we  were  able.  In 
proportion  as  our  minds  grew  in  activity  and  power  of  com- 
prehension, and  our  knowledge  increased,  our  notions  and 
conceptions  were  brought  into  shapes  mainly  agreeing  with 
those  which  they  wore  in  the  minds  of  those  around  us, 
and  received  in  our  usage  the  appellations  to  which  the  latter 
were  accustomed.  On  making  acquaintance  with  certain 
liquids,  colourless  or  white,  we  had  not  to  go  throu/J,li  a  pro- 
cess of  observation  and  study  of  their  properties,  m  order  to 
devise  suitable  titles  for  them ;  we  were  taught  that  tliese 
were  water  and  milk.  The  one  of  them,  when  standing 
stagnant  in  patches,  or  rippling  between  green  banks,  we 
learned  to  call,  according  to  circumstances  and  the  prefer- 
ence of  our  instructors, />ooZ  or  puddle,  and  hrook  or  river. 
An  elevation  rising  blue  in  the  distance,  or  towering  nearer 
above  us,  attracted  our  attention,  and  drew  from  us  the  staple 
inquiry  "  What  is  that  ?  " — the  answer,  "  A  mountain,"  or 
"  A  hill,"  brought  to  our  vocabulary  one  of  the  innuuierable 
additions  which  it  gained  in  a  like  way.  Along  with  the 
names  of  external  sensible  objects,  we  thus  learned  also  that 
2)ractical  classification  of  them  which  our  language  recog- 
nizes:  we  learned  to  distinguish  hi^ook  andny^r;  hill  ^mi 
mountain  ;  tree,  bush,  vine,  shrub,  and  plant;  and  so  on,  in 
cases  without  number.  In  like  manner,  among  the  various 
acts  which  we  were  capable  of  performing,  we  were  tau>.::ht 
tj  deuiguate  certain  ones  by  specific  titles:  much   reppxif. 


I.]  OUR   MOTHER-TONGUE.  13 

for  instance,  doubtless  made  us  early  understand  what  waa 
meant  by  cry,  strike,  push,  kick,  hite,  and  other  names  for 
misdeeds  incident  to  even  the  best-rei^ulated  childhood. 
How  long  our  own  n\ental  states  might  have  remained  a 
confused  and  indistiuct  chaos  to  our  unassisted  reflection, 
we  do  not  know  ;  but  we  were  soon  helped  to  single  out  and 
recognize  by  appropriate  appellations  certain  ones  among 
them  :  for  example,  a  warm  feeling  of  gratification  and  at- 
tachment we  were  made  to  signify  by  the  expression  Jove ; 
an  inferior  degree  of  the  sam.e  feeling  by  like  ;  and  their 
opposite  by  Jiate.  Long  before  any  process  of  analysis  and 
combination  carried  on  wit]iin  ourselves  would  have  given 
us  the  distinct  conceptions  of  true  and  false,  of  good  and 
naughty,  they  were  carefully  set  before  us,  and  their  due  ap- 
prehension was  enforced  by  faithful  admonition,  or  by  some- 
thing yet  more  serious.  And  not  only  were  we  thus  assisted 
to  an  intelligent  recognition  of  ourselves  and  the  world  im- 
mediately about  us,  but  knowledge  began  at  once  to  be 
communicated  to  us  respecting  things  beyond  our  reach. 
The  appellations  of  hosts  of  objects,  of  places,  of  beings, 
which  we  had  not  seen,  and  perhaps  have  not  even  yet  seen, 
we  learned  by  hearing  or  by  reading,  and  direct  instruction 
enabled  us  to  attach  to  them  some  characteristic  idea,  more 
or  less  complete  and  adequate.  Thus,  we  had  not  to  cross 
the  ocean,  and  to  coast  about  and  traverse  a  certain  island 
beyond  it,  in  order  to  know  that  there  is  a  country  England^ 
and  to  hold  it  apart,  by  specific  attributes,  from  other  coun- 
tries of  which  we  obtained  like  knowledge  by  like  means'. 

But  enough  of  this  illustration.  It  is  already  sufficiently  \ 
clear  that  the  acquisition  of  language  was  one  of  the  steps  1 
of  our  earliest  education.  We  did  not  make  our  own  tongue, 
or  any  part  of  it ;  we  neither  selected  the  objects,  acts, 
mental  states,  relations^  which  should  be  separately  desig- 
nated, nor  devised  their  distinctive  designations.  We  simply 
received  and  appropriated,  as  well  as  we  could,  whatever 
our  instructors  were  pleased  to  set  before  us.  Independence 
of  the  general  usages  of  speech  was  neither  encouraged  nor 
tolerated  in  us ;  nor  did  we  feel  tempted  toward  independ- 
ence     Our  object  was  to  communicate  with  those  among 


14  HOW   WE    ACQUIR3D  [lECT. 

whom  ( iir  lot  was  cast,  to  understand  them  and  be  under- 
stood by  them,  to  learn  what  their  greater  wisdom  and 
experience  could  impart  to  us.  In  order  to  this,  we  had  to 
think  and  talk  as  they  did,  and  we  were  content  to  do  so. 
Why  such  and  such  a  combination  of  sounds  was  applied  to 
designate  such  and  such  an  idea  was  to  us  a  matter  of  utter 
iudilfei-ence  ;  all  we  knew  or  cared  to  know  was  that  others 
so  applied  it.  Questions  of  etymology,  of  fitness  of  appella- 
tion, concerned  us  not.  What  was  it  to  us,  for  instance, 
when  the  answer  came  back  to  one  of  our  childish  inquiries 
after  names,  that  the  word  mountain  was  imported  into  our 
tongue  out  of  the  Latin,  through  the  JN^orman  Trench,  and 
was  Qri^inally  an  adjective,  meaning  '  hilly,  mountainous,' 
while  hill  had  once  a  y  in  it,  indicating  its  relationship  with 
the  adjective  hiyh  ?  We  recognized  no  tie  between  any  word 
and  the  idea  represented  by  it  excepting  a  mental  association 
which  we  had  ourselves  formed,  under  the  guidance,  and  in 
obedience  to  th^  example,  of  those  about  us.  We  do,  indeed, 
wh^i  a  little  older,  perhaps,  begin  to  amuse  ourselves  with 
inquiring  into  the. reasons  why  this  word  means  that  thing, 
and  not  otherwise  :  but  it  is  only  for  the  satisfaction  of  our 
curiosity  ;  if  we  fail  to  find  a  reason,  or  if  the  reason  be 
found  trivial  and  insufiieient,  we  do  not  on  that  account  re- 
ject the  word.  Thus  every  vocable  was  to  us  an  arbitrary 
and  conventional  sign  :  arbitrary,  because  any  one  of  a  thou- 
sand other  vocables  could  have  been  just  as  easily  learned 
by  us  and  associated  with  the  same  idea;  conventional, 
because  the  one  we  actjuired  had  its  sole  ground  and  sanc- 
tion in  the  consenting  usage  of  the  community  of  which  we 
formed  a  part. 

Kaco  and  blood,  it  is  equally  evident,  had  notliin^:  to  do 
directly  with  determining  our  langiia'j^e.  English  descent 
would  never  have  made  us  talk  English.  ]S'o  matter  who 
were  our  ancestors;  if  those  about  us  had  said  loasser  and 
milch,  or  can  and  lait,  or  hi/dor  and  qala,  instead  of  water 
and  milk,  we  should  have  done  the  same.  We  could  just  as 
readdy  have  accustomed  ourselves  to  say  Helen  or  aimer  or 
pJiilrin,  as  love,  ivahrheit  or  vvritc  or  ah'lheia,  as  truth.  And 
80   in  every  other   case.      An  American  or  English  mother, 


I.]  OUR    MOTHER-TONCtUE.  15 

anxious  that  her  cliild  should  grow  up  duly  aceomplLihcd, 
gives  it  a  French  nurse,  and  takes  care  that  no  English  be 
spoken  in  its  presence  ;  and  not  all  the  blood  of  all  the 
Joneses  can  save  it  from  talking  French  first,  as  if  this  were 
indeed  its  own  mother-tongue.  An  infant  is  taken  alive 
from  the  arms  of  its  drowned  mother,  the  on]j  waif  cast 
upon  the  shore  from  the  wreck  of  a  strange  vessel ;  and  it 
learns  the  tongue  of  its  foster-parents ;  no  outbreak  of 
natural  and  hereditary  speech  ever  betrays  from  what  land 
it  derived  its  birth.  The  child  of  a  father  and  mother  of 
different  race  and  speech  learns  the  tongue  of  either,  as 
circumstances  and  their  choice  may  determine ;  or  it  learns 
both,  and  is  equally  at  home  in  them,  hardly  knowing 
which  to  call  its  native  language.  The  bands  of  Africans, 
stolen  from  their  homes  and  imported  into  America,  lost  in 
a  generation  their  Congo  or  Mendi,  and  acquired  from  their 
fellow-slaves  a  rude  jargon  in  which  they  could  communicate 
with  one  another  and  with  their  masters.  The  Babel  of 
dialects  brought  every  year  to  our  shores  by  the  thousands 
of  foreigners  who  come  to  seek  a  new  home  among  us,  dis- 
appear in  as  brief  a  time,  or  are  kept  up  only  where  those 
who  speak  them  herd  together  in  separate  communities. 
The  Irish  peasantry,  mingled  with  and  domineered  over  by 
English  colonists,  governed  under  English  institutions,  feel- 
ing the  whole  weight,  for  good  and  for  evil,  of  a  superior 
English  civilization,  incapacitated  from  rising  above  a  condi- 
tion of  poverty  and  ignorance  without  command  of  English 
speech,  unlegtrn  by  degrees  their  native  Celtic  tongue,  and 
adopt  the  dialect  of  the  ruling  and  cultivated  class. 

No  oue,  I  am  confi  lent,  can  fail  to  allow  that  this  is  a 
true  account  of  the  process  by  which  we  acquire  our  "  mot;her- 
tongue."  Every  one  recognizes,  as  the  grand  advantage  con- 
nected with  the  use  of  language,  the  fact  that  in  it  and  by  it 
whatever  of  truth  and  knowledge  each  generation  has  learned 
or  worked  out  can  be  made  over  into  the  possession  of  the 
generation  following.  It  is  not  necessary  that  each  of  ua 
study  the  world  for  himself,  in  order  to  apprehend  and 
classify  the  varied  objects  it  contains,  Avith  their  qualitiea 
and  relations,  and  invent  designations  for  them.     This  has 


IG  PECULIAUITIES    OF    FORM  [lECTc 

befTi  d'jT.e  by  those  who  came  before  us,  and  tvc  cntei'  into 
the  fruits  of  their  labours.  It  is  only  the  first  man,  before 
whom  every  beast  of  the  field  and  every  fowl  of  the  air  must 
present  itself,  to  see  what  he  will  call  it ;  whatever  he  calls 
any  living  creature,  that  is  the  name  thereof,  not  to  himself 
alone,  but  to  his  family  and  descendants,  who  are  content  to 
style  each  as  their  father  had  done  before  them. 

Our  acquisition  of  English,  however,  has  as  yet  been  but 
partially  and  imperfectly  described. 

In  the  first  place,  the  English  which  we  thus  learn  is  of 
that  peculiar  form  or  local  variety  w^hich  is  talked  by  our  in- 
structors and  models.  It  is,  indeed,  possible  that  one  may 
have  been  surrounded  from  birth  by  those,  and  those  only, 
whoso  speech  is  wholly  conformed  to  perfect  standards  ; 
then  it  will  have  been,  at  least,  his  own  fault  if  he  has 
learned  aught  but  the  purest  and  most  universally  accepted 
English.  But  such  cases  cannot  be  otherwise  than  rare.  For, 
setting  aside  the  fact  that  all  are  not  agreed  as  to  whose 
usage  forms  the  unexceptionable  standard,  nothing  can  be 
more  certain  than  that  few,  on  either  side  of  the  ocean,  know 
and  follow  it  accurately.  Not  many  of  us  can  escape  ac- 
quiring in  our  youth  some  tinge  of  local  dialect,  of  slang 
characteristic  of  grade  or  occupation,  of  personal  peculiari- 
ties, even,  belon<2:infr  to  our  initiators  into  the  mysteries  of 
speech.  These  may  be  mere  inelegancies  of  pronunciation, 
appearing  in  individual  words  or  in  the  general  tone  of  ut- 
terance, like  the  nasal  twang,  and  the  flattening  of  ou  into 
au,  which  common  fame  injuriously  ascribes  to  the  Yankee  ; 
or  they  may  be  ungrammatical  modes  of  expression,  or  un- 
couth turns  and  forms  of  construction  ;  or  favourite  recur- 
rent phrases,  such  as  I  guess,  I  calculate,  I  reckon,  I  expect^ 
you  knoLU,  each  of  which  has  its  own  region  of  prevalence ; 
or  colloquialisms  and  vulgarisms,  which  ought  to  hide  their 
heads  in  good  English  society  ;  or  words  of  only  dialectic 
currency,  which  the  general  language  does  not  recognize. 
Any  or  all  of  these  or  of  their  like  we  innocently  learn  along 
with  the  rest  of  our  speech,  not  knowing  how  to  distinguish 
the  evil  from  the  good.  And  often,  as  some  of  us  know  to 
our    cost,   errors   and   infelicities    are   thus    so    tlioroughly 


I.]  OF    EACH    dice's    ENGLISH.  17 

wrouglit  into  our  minds,  as  parts  of  our  habitual  modes  of 
expression,  that  not  all  the  care  and  instruction  of  after  life 
can  rid  us  of  them.  How  many  men  of  culture  and 
eminent  ability  do  we  meet  with,  who  exhibit  through  life 
the  marks  of  a  defective  or  vicious  early  training  in  their 
native  tongue  !  The  dominion  of  habit  is  not  less  powerful 
in  language  than  in  anything  else  that  we  acquire  and  pra,c- 
tise.  It  is  not  alone  true  that  he  who  has  once  thoroughly 
learned  English  is  thereby  almost  disqualified  from  ever 
attaining  a  native  facility,  correctness,  and  elegance  in  any 
foreign  tongue ;  one  may  also  so  thoroughly  learn  a  bad 
style  of  English  as  never  to  be  able  to  ennoble  it  into  tho 
best  and  most  approved  form  of  his  native  speech.  Yet, 
with  us,  the  influences  which  tend  to  repress  and  eradicate 
local  peculiarities  and  individual  errors  are  numerous  and 
powerful.  One  of  the  most  eifective  among  them  is  school 
instruction.  It  is  made  an  important  part  of  our  education 
to  learn  to  speak  and  write  correctly.  The  pupil  of  a  faith- 
ful and  competent  instructor  is  taught  to  read  and  pro- 
nounce, to  frame  sentences  with  the  mouth  and  with  the 
pen,  in  a  manner  accordant  with  that  which  is  accepted 
among:  the  well-educated  everywhere.  Social  intercourse  is 
a  cultivatirtg  agency  hardly  less  important,  and  more  en- 
during in  its  action  ;  as  long  as  we  live,  by  associating  with 
those  who  speak  correctly,  we  are  shown  our  own  faults,  and 
at  the  sait-e  time  prompted  and  taught  to  correct  them. 
Heading — 'vhich  is  but  another  form  of  such  intercourse — 
consultation  of  authorities,  self-impelled  study  in  various 
forms,  help  the  work.  Our  speech  is  improved  and  per- 
fected, as  it  was  first  acquired,  by  putting  ourselves  in  the 
position  of  learners,  by  following  the  example  of  those  who 
speak  better  than  we  do.  He  who  is  really  in  earnest  to 
complete  his  mastery  of  his  mother-tongue  may  hope  for 
final  success,  whatever  have  been  his  early  disadvantages  , 
just  as  one  may  acquire  a  foreign  tongue,  like  German  or 
French,  with  a  degree  of  perfection  depending  only  on  his 
opportunities,  his  capacity, his  industry,  and  the  lengtli  of  tiii:e 
he  devotes  to  the  study. 

Again,  even  when  the  process  of  training  which  wc-  have 

2 


18    ^  LIMITATIONS    OF    EXTENT  [lECT. 

described  gives  general  correctness  and  facility,  it  ia  far  from 
conferring  universal  command  of  the  resources  of  the  Eng- 
lish tongue.  This  is  no  grand  indivisible  unity,  whereof  tho 
learner  acquires  all  or  none ;  it  is  an  aggregation  of  particu- 
lars, and  each  one  appropriates  more  or  less  of  them,  accord- 
ing to  his  means  and  ability.  The  vocabulary  which  the 
young  child  has  acquired  the  pow  er  to  use  is  a  very  scanty 
one  ;  it  includes  only  the  most  indispensable  part  of  speech, 
names  for  the  commonest  objects,  the  most  ordinary  and 
familiar  conceptions,  the  simplest  relations.  You  can  talk 
with  a  child  only  on  a  certain  limited  range  of  subjects  ;  a 
book  not  written  especially  for  his  benefit  is  in  great  part 
unintelligible  to  him  :  he  has  not  yet  learned  its  signs  for 
thought,  and  they  must  be  translated  into  others  with 
which  he  is  acquainted  ;  or  the  thought  itself  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  his  apprehension,  the  statement  is  outside  the  sphere 
of  his  knowledge.  But  in  this  regard  we  are  all  of  us  more 
or  less  children.  "Who  ever  yet  got  through  learning  his 
mother-tongue,  and  could  say,  "  The  work  is  done  ?  "  The 
encyclopedic  English  language,  as  we  may  term  it,  tlie  Eng- 
lish of  the  great  dictionaries,  contains  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  words.  And  these  are  only  a  selection  out  of  a 
greater  mass.  If  all  the  signs  for  thought  employed  for 
purposes  of  communication  by  those  who  have  spoken  and 
Avho  speak  no  other  toiigue  than  ours  were  brought  together, 
if  all  obsolete,  technical,  and  dialectic  words  were  gathered 
in,  which,  if  they  are  not  English,  are  of  no  assignable  spoken 
tongue,  the  number  mentioned  would  be  vastly  augmented. 
Out  of  this  immense  mass,  it  has  been  reckoned  by  careful 
observers  that  from  three  to  five  thousand  answer  all  the 
ordinary  ends  of  familiar  intercourse,  even  among  the  culti- 
vated;  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  English-speaking 
community,  including  the  lowest  and  most  ignorant  class, 
never  learn  to  use  even  so  many  as  three  thousand  :  what 
they  do  acquire,  of  course,  being,  like  the  child's  vocabulary, 
the  most  necessary  part  of  the  language,  signs  for  the  com- 
monest and  simplest  ideas.  To  a  nucleus  of  this  character, 
every  artisan,  Ihongh  otlierwise  uninstructed,  must  add  the 
t((linical  lanjrua^e  of  his  own  craft — names  for  tools,  and 


\ 


I.]  OF    EACH    one's    ENGLISH.  19 

processes,  and  products  whicli  his  every-day  experience 
makes  familiar  to  him,  but  of  which  the  vast  majority,  per- 
haps, of  those  outside  his  own  line  of  life  know  nothing 
Jj^norant  as  he  may  be,  he  will  talk  to  you  of  a  host  of  mat- 
ters which  you  shall  not  understand.  Ko  insignificant  part 
of  the  hundred-thousand-vrord  list  is  made  up  of  selections 
from  such  technical  vocabularies.  Each  department  of  labour, 
of  art,  of  science,  has  its  special  dialect,  fully  known  only  to 
those  who  have  made  themselves  masters  in  that  department. 
The  world  requires  of  every  well-informed  and  educated 
person  a  certain  amount  of  knowledge  in  many  special  de- 
partments, aloDg  with  a  corresponding  portion  of  the  lan- 
guage belonging  to  each  :  but  he  would  be  indeed  a  marvel 
of  many-sided  learning  who  had  mastered  them  all.  Who 
is  there  among  us  that  will  not  find,  on  every  page  of  the 
comprehensive  dictionaries  now  in  vogue,  words  which  are 
strange  to  him,  which  need  defining  to  his  apprehension, 
which  he  could  not  be  sure  of  employing  in  the  right  place 
and  connection  ?  And  this,  not  in  the  technical  portions 
only  of  our  vocabulary.  There  are  words,  or  meanings  of 
words,  no  longer  in  familiar  use,  antiquated  or  obsolescent, 
which  yet  may  not  be  denied  a  place  in  the  present  English 
tongue.  There  are  objects  which  almost  never  fall  under 
the  notice  of  great  numbers  of  people,  or  of  whole  classes  of 
the  community,  and  to  whose  names,  accordingly,  when  met 
with,  these  are  unable  to  attach  any  definite  idea.  There 
are  cognitions,  conceptions,  feelings,  which  have  not  come 
up  in  the  minds  of  all,  which  all  have  not  had  occasion  and 
acquired  power  to  express.  There  are  distinctions,  in  every 
department  of  thought,  which  all  have  not  learned  to  draw 
and  designate.  Moreover,  there  are  various  styles  of  expres- 
sion for  the  same  thing,  which  are  not  at  every  one's  com- 
mand. One  writer  or  speaker  has  great  ease  and  copious- 
ness of  diction ;  for  all  his  thoughts  he  has  a  variety  of 
phrases  to  choose  among ;  he  lays  them  out  before  us  in 
beautiful  elaboration,  in  clear  and  elegant  style,  so  that  to 
follow  and  understand  him  is  like  floating  with  the  current. 
Another,  with  not  less  wealth  of  knowledge  and  clearneaa 
of  judgment,  is  cramped  and  awkward  in  his  use  of  lauguagej 

2* 


20  PECULIARITIES   OF    MEANING  [lECT. 

he  puts  Ilia  ideas  before  us  in  a  rough  and  fragmentary  way  ; 
he  carries  our  understandings  Avitli  him,  but  oidy  at  the  cost 
of  labour  and  pains  on  our  ])art.  And  though  he  may  be  able 
to  comprehend  all  that  is  said  by  the  other,  he  has  not  in  the 
same  sense  made  the  language  his  o\vn,  any  more  than  the 
student  of  a  foreign  tongue  \vho  can  trani>late  from  it  with 
facilityj  but  can  express  himself  in  it  only  lamely.  Thus  the 
infinite  variety  of  the  native  and  acquired  capacity  of  different 
individuals  comes  to  light  in  their  idiom.  It  would  be  aa 
hard  to  find  two  persons  with  precisely  the  same  limits  to 
their  speech,  as  with  precisely  the  same  lineaments  of  coun- 
tenance. 
/  Once  more,  not  all  who  speak  the  same  tongue  attach  the 
(  same  meaning  to  the  words  they  utter.  Y\'e  learn  what 
words  signify  either  by  direct  definition  or  by  inference 
from  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are  used.  But  no 
definition  is  or  can  be  exact  and  complete ;  and  we  are 
always  liable  to  draw  wrong  inferences.  Cliildrcn,  aa 
every  one  knows,  are  constantly  misapprehending  the  extent 
of  meaning  and  application  of  the  signs  they  acquire.  Un- 
til it  learns  better,  a  child  calls  every  man  pa^a  ;  liaviug 
been  taught  the  word  shj,  it  calls  the  ceiling  of  a  room  the 
sky  ;  it  calls  a  donkey  or  a  mule  a  horse — and  naturally 
enough,  since  it  has  had  to  apply  the  name  dog  to  creatures 
diftering  far  more  than  these  from  one  anotlier.  And  so 
long  as  the  learning  of  language  lasts,  does  the  liability  to 
Buch  error  continue.  It  is  a  necessity  of.  the  ca^^e,  arising 
out  of  the  essential  nature  of  language.  .  "Words  are  not 
exact  models  of  ideas ;  they  are  merely  signs  for  ideas,  at 
whose  significance  we  arrive  as  well  as  we  can  ;  and  no 
mind  can  put  itself  into  such  immediate  and  intimate  com- 
munion with  another  mind  as  to  think  and  feel  precisely 
with  it.  Sentences  are  not  images  of  thoughts,  reflected  in 
a  faultless  mirror;  nor  even  photographs,  needing  only  to 
have  the  colour  added  :  they  are  but  imperfect  and  frag- 
mentary sketches,  giving  just  outlines  enough  to  enable  the 
sense  before  which  they  are  set  up  to  seize  the  view  intended, 
and  to  fill  it  out  to  a  complete  picture;  while  yet,  as  regards 
the  completeness  of  the  filiing  out,  the  details  of  the  work, 


I.]  IN    EACH    one's    ENGLISH.  21 

and  ilie  finer  .sLades  of  colouring,  no  two  minds  will  produce 
pictures  perfectly  accordant  with  one  another,  nor  will  any 
precisely  reproduce  the  original. 

The  limits  of  variation  of  meaning  are,  of  course,  very 
different  in  different  classes  of  words.  So  far  as  these  are 
designations  of  definite  objects,  cognizable  by  the  senses, 
there  is  little  danger  of  our  seriously  misapprehending  one 
another  when  we  utter  them.  Yet,  even  here,  there  is 
room  for  no  trifling  discordance,  as  the  superior  knowledge 
or  more  vivid  imagination  of  one  person  gives  to  the  idea 
called  up  by  a  name  a  far  richer  content  than  another  can 
put  into  it.  Two  men  speak  of  the  sun,  with  mutual  intel- 
ligence :  but  to  the  one  he  is  a  mere  ball  of  light  and  heat, 
which  rises  in  the  sky  every  morning,  and  goes  down  again  at 
night ;  to  the  other,  all  that  science  has  taught  us  respecting 
the  nature  of  the  great  luminary,  and  its  influence  upon  our 
little  planet,  is  more  or  less  distinctly  present  every  time  he 
utters  its  name.  The  word  Fekin  is  spoken  before  a  num- 
ber of  persons,  and  is  understood  by  them  all :  but  some 
among  them  know  only  that  it  is  the  name  of  an  immense 
city  in  Asia,  the  capital  of  the  Chinese  empire  ;  others  have 
studied  Chinese  manners  and  customs,  have  seen  pictures  of 
Chinese  scenery,  architecture,  dress,  occupation,  and  are  able 
to  tinge  the  conception  which  the  word  evokes  with  some 
fair  share  of  a  local  colouring ;  another,  perhaps,  has  visited 
the  place,  and  its  name  touches  a  store  of  memories,  and 
brings  up  before  his  mind's  eye  a  picture  vivid  with  the 
hues  of  truth.  I  feel  a  tolerable  degree  of  confidence  that 
the  impressions  of  colour  made  on  my  sense  are  the  same 
with  those  made  upon  my  friend's  sense,  so  that,  when  we 
use  the  words  red  or  blue,  we  do  not  mean  different  things : 
and  yet,  even  here,  it  is  possible  that  one  of  us  may  be 
afflicted  with  some  degree  of  colour-blindness,  so  that  we  do 
not  apprehend  the  same  shades  precisely  alike.  But  just  so 
is  every  part  of  language  liable  to  be  affected  by  the  per- 
sonality of  the  speaker ;  and  most  of  all,  where  matters  of 
more  subjective  apprehension  are  concerned.  The  volup- 
tuary, the  passionate  and  brutal,  the  philosophic,  and  the 
aentimental,  for  instance,  when  they  speak  of  love  or  of  hate^ 


22  WHAT    THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE    18,  [lECT. 

mean  by  no  means  the  same  feelings.  How  pregnant  with 
sacred  meaning  are  home,  patriotism,  faith  to  some,  while 
others  utter  or  hear  them  with  cool  iDcliftereuce  !  It  is  need- 
less, however,  to  multiply  examples.  Not  halt' the  words  in  our 
familiar  speech  would  be  identically  defined  by  any  consider- 
able number  of  those  who  employ  them  every  day.  Kay, 
who  knows  not  that  verbal  disputes,  discussions  turning  on 
the  meaning  of  words,  are  the  most  frequent,  bitter,  and  in- 
terminable  of  controversies  ? 

Clearly,  therefore,  we  are  guilty  of  no  paradox  in  main- 
taining that,  while  we  all  speak  the  English  language,  the 
English  of  no  two  individuals  among  us  is  precisely  tho 
same:  it  is  not  the  same  in  form;  it  is  not  the  same  in 
extent  ;  it  is  not  the  same  in  meaning. 

But  what,  then,  is  the  English  language?  "We  answer: 
It  is  the  immense  aggregate  of  the  articulated  signs  for 
thought  accepted  by,  and  current  among,  a  certain  vast 
community  which  we  call  the  English-speaking  people,  em- 
bracing the  principal  portion  of  the  inhabitants  of  our  own 
country  and  of  Great  Britain,  with  all  those  who  elsewhere 
in  the  world  talk  like  them.  It  is  the  sum  of  the  separate 
languages  of  all  the  members  of  this  community.  Or — since 
each  one  says  some  things,  or  says  them  in  a  way,  not  to  be 
accepted  as  in  the  highest  sense  English — it  is  their  average 
rather  than  their  sum  ;  it  is  that  part  of  the  aggregate  wliich 
is  supported  by  the  usage  of  the  majority  ;  but  of  a  majority 
made  in  great  part  by  culture  and  education,  not  by  num- 
bers alone.  It  is  a  mighty  region  of  speech,  of  somewliafc 
fluctuating  and  uncertain  boundaries,  whereof  each  speaker 
occupies  a  portion,  and  a  certain  central  tract  is  included  in 
the  portion  of  all :  there  they  meet  on  common  ground  ;  olf  it, 
they  are  strangers  to  one  another.  Although  one  language,  it 
includes  numerous  varieties,  of  greatly  dilfering  kind  and 
degree :  individual  varieties,  class  varieties,  local  varieties. 
Almost  any  two  persons  who  speak  it  may  talk  so  as  to  be 
unintelligible  to  each  other.  The  one  fact  which  gives  it 
unity  is,  that  ail  who  speak  it  may,  to  a  considerable  extent, 
and  on  subjects  of  the  most  general  and  pressing  interest, 
talk  so  as  to  understand  one  another. 


X.]  AND    HOW    IT    IS    KEPT    IN    EXISTENCE.  23 

How  this  language  is  kept  in  existence  is  clearly  sliown 
by  the  foregoing  exposition.  It  is  preserved  by  an  un- 
interrupted tradition.  Each  generation  bands  it  down  to 
the  generation  following.  Every  one  is  an  actor  in  the  pro- 
cess ;  in  each  individual  speaker  the  language  has,  as  we 
may  say,  a  separate  and  independent  existence,  as  has  an 
animal  species  in  each  of  its  members  ;  and  each  does  what 
inhim  lies  to  propagate  it — that  is  to  say,  his  own  part  of 
it,  as  determined  in  extent  and  character  by  the  inherent 
and  acquired  peculiarities  of  his  nature.  And,  small  as  may 
be  the  share  of  the  work  which  falls  to  any  one  of  us,  the 
sum  of  all  the  shares  constitutes  the  force  which  effects  the 
transmission  of  the  whole  language.  In  the  case  of  a  tongue 
like  ours,  too,  these  private  labours  are  powerfully  aided  and 
supplemented  by  the  influence  of  a  literature.  Each  book 
is,  as  it  were,  an  undying  individual,  with  whom,  often, 
much  larger  numbers  hold  intercourse  than  any  living  per- 
son can  reach,  and  who  teaches  them  to  speak  as  he  speaks. 
A  great  body  of  literary  works  of  acknowledged  merit  and 
authority,  in  the  midst  of  a  people  proud  and  fond  of  it,  is 
an  agent  in  the  preservation  and  transmission  of  any  tongue, 
the  importance  of  which  cannot  easily  be  over-estimated:  we 
shall  have  to  take  it  constantly  into  account  in  the  course  of 
our  farther  inquiries  into  the  history  of  language.  But 
each  work  is,  after  all,  only  a  single  person,  with  his  limita- 
tions and  deficiencies,  and  with  his  restricted  influence. 
Even  Shakspeare,  with  his  unrivalled  wealth  and  variety  of 
expression,  uses  but  about  fifteen  thousand  words,  and  Mil- 
ton little  more  than  half  so  many — mere  fragments  of  the 
encyclopedic  English  tongue.  The  language  would  soon  be 
shorn  of  no  small  part  of  its  strength,  if  placed  exclusively 
in  the  hands  of  any  individual,  or  of  any  class.  jS'othing 
less  than  the  combined  eftort  of  a  Avhole  community,  with 
all  its  classes  and  orders,  in  all  its  variety  of  characters,  cir- 
cumstances, and  necessities,  is  capable  of  keeping  in  lire  a 
whole  lanfTuaije. 

But,  while  our  English  speech  is  thus  passed  onward  from 
generation  to  generation  of  those  who  learn  to  speak  it,  and, 
bar  .ng  learned  the'jaselves,  teach  others,  it  does  not  remain 


24  CHANGES    IN  [LBCvT, 

precisely  the  same  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  undergoing  all  the 
time  a  slow  process  of  modification,  which  is  capable  of  ren- 
dering it  at  length  auotlier  language,  unintelligible  to  those 
who  now  employ  it.     In  order  to  be  convinced  of  this,  we 
have  only  to  cast  an  eye  backward  over  its  past  history,  dur- 
ing the  period  for  which  we  have  its  progress  recorded  in 
contemporary   documents.      How   much  is  there  in  our  pre- 
Bent  familiar  speech  which  wouldTj'e  strange  and  meaningless 
to  one  of  Elizabeth's  court !      How  much,  again,  do  we  find 
in  any  of  the  writers  of  that  period — in  Shakspeare,  for  in- 
stance— which  is  no  longer  good  current  English  !  phrases 
and   forms  of  construction  w4iich  never  fall  from  our  lips 
uow  save  as  we  quote  them  ;  scores  of  words  which  we  have 
lost  out  of  memory,  or  do  not  employ  in   the   sense  which 
they  then  bore.      Gro  back  yet  farther,  from  half-century  to 
half-century,  and  the  case  grows  rapidly  worse  ;  and  when 
we  arrive  at  Chaucer  and  Grower,  who  are  separated  from  us 
by  a  paltry  interval  of  five  hundred  years,  only  fifteen  or 
twenty  descents  from  father  to  son,  we  meet  with  a  dialect 
whicli  has  a  half- foreign  look,  and  can  only  be  read  by  care- 
ful study,  with  the  aid  of  a  glossary.     Another  like  interval 
of  five  hundred  years  brings  us  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  of  King 
Alfred,  which  is  absolutely  a  strange  tongue  to  us,  not  less 
unintelligible  than  the  Grerman  of  the  present  day,  and  nearly 
as  hard  to  learn.     And  yet,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe 
that  any  one  of  those  thirty  or  forty  generations  of  English- 
men  through    whom   we  are    descended  from   the  contem- 
poraries of  King  Alfred  was  less  simply  and  single-mindedly 
en<raired  to  transmit  to  its  children  the  same  lan^ua^e  which 
it  had  received  irom  its  ancestors  than  is  the  generation  of 
which  we  ourselves  form  a  part.     It  may  well  be  that  cir- 
cumstances were  less  favourable  to  some  of  them  than  to  us, 
and  that  our  common  speech  stands  in  no  danger  of  suffer- 
ing in  the  next  thousand  years  a  tithe  of  the  change  which 
it  has  sufiered  in  the  past  thousand.     But  the  forces  which 
are  at  work  in  it  are  the  same  now  that  they  have  always 
been,  and  the  efi'ects  they  are  producing  are  of  the  same 
easeutial  character  :  both  are  inherent  in  the  nature  of  Ian- 


I.]  TEE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  25 

guage,  and  inseparable  from   its  use.     This  ■will  be   made 
plain  to  lis  by  a  brief  inquiry. 

The  most  rapid  and  noticeable  mode  of  change  in  our 
language  is  that  which  is  all  the  time  varying  the  extent  and 
meaning  of  its  vocabulary.  English  speech  exists  in  order 
that  "we  may  communicate  Avith  one  another  respecting  those 
things  which  we  know.  As  the  stock  of  words  at  the  com- 
mand of  each  individual  is  an  approximate  measure  of  the 
sum  of  his  knowledge,  so  the  stock  of  words  composing  a 
language  corresponds  to  what  is  known  in  the  community  ; 
the  objects  it  is  familiar  with,  the  distinctions  it  has  drawn, 
all  its  cognitions  and  reasonings,  in  the  world  of  matter  and 
of  mind,  must  have  their  appropriate  expression.  That 
speech  should  signify  more  than  is  in  the  minds  of  its  speakers 
is  obviously  impossible  ;  but  neither  must  it  fall  short  of  in- 
dicating what  they  think.  Kow  the  sum  of  knowledge  in 
every  community  varies  not  a  little  from  generation  to 
generation.  Every  trade  and  handicraft,  every  art,  every 
science,  is  constantly  changing  its  materials,  its  processes, 
and  its  products  ;  and  its  technical  dialect  is  modified  accord- 
ingly, w^hile  so  much  of  the  results  of  this  change  as  affects 
or  interests  the  general  public  finds  its  way  into  the  familiar 
speech  of  everybody.  As  our  material  condition  varies,  as 
our  ways  of  life,  our  institutions,  private  and  public,  become 
other  than  they  have  been,  all  is  necessarily  reflected  in  our 
language.  In  these  days  of  railroads,  steamboats,  and  tele- 
graphs, of  sun-pictures,  of  chemistry  and- geology,  of  improved 
wearing  stnffs,  furniture,  styles  of  building,  articles  of  food 
and  luxury  of  every  description,  how  many  words  and  phrases 
are  in  every  one's  mouth  which  would  be  utterly  unintelligible 
to  the  most  learned  man  of  a  century  ago,  were  he  'tr  rise 
from  his  grave  and  walk  our  streets  !  It  is,  of  course,  in  its 
stores  of  expression  for  these  more  material  objects  and  rela- 
tions, and  for  the  details  of  technical  knowledge,  that  lan- 
guage changes  most  notably,  because  it  is  with  reference  to 
tiiese  that  the  necessity  for  change  especially  arises.  The 
central  and  most  indispensable  substance  of  every  language 
is  made  up  of  designations  for  things,  properties,  acts,  the 


28  CHANGES    IN  [lECT, 

apprehension  of  which  is  nearly  as  old  as  humanity  itself, 
which  men  learned  to  name  as  soon  as  they  learned  to  talk 
at  all,  and  whose  names  are  not  liable  to  pass  away  or  be- 
come superseded.  The  words  red,  green,  blue,  yellow,  or 
their  equivalents,  go  back  to  the  earliest  period  of  human 
speech  ;  it  is  when  some  new  and  delicate  shades  of  colour, 
like  the  aniline  dyes,  are  invented,  that  appellations  must  be 
sought  for  them,  and  may  be  fouud  even  among  names  of 
localities,  as  Magenta,  Solferino^  to  which  the  circum.stances 
of  the  time  have  given  a  sudden  notoriety.  Any  two  rustics, 
from  the  time  of  Adam  to  the  present,  could  talk  with  one 
another,  with  all  the  particularity  which  their  practical  ends 
required,  of  earth  and  rock,  of  pebbles  and  stones,  of 
sand  and  gravel,  of  loam  and  clay :  but,  since  the  beginning 
of  the  present  century,  the  mineralogist  and  geologist  have 
elicited  a  host  of  new  facts  touching  the  history  and  consti- 
tution of  the  earth's  "crust  and  the  materials  of  which  this 
is  made  up,  have  arranged  and  classified  its  strata  and  their 
contents,  have  brought  to  light  numberless  relations,  of  cause 
and  effect,  of  succession,  of  origin,  date,  and  value,  Avhich 
had  hitherto  lain  hidden  in  it ;  and,  to  express  these,  they 
have  introduced  into  English  speech  a  whole  technical  vo- 
cabulary, and  one  which  is  still  every  year  extending  and 
changing.  So  it  is  with  botany ;  so  with  metaphysics  ;  so 
with  every  other  branch  of  science  and  art.  And  though 
the  greater  part  of  the  technical  vocabularies  remains  merely 
technical,  understood  and  employed  only  by  special  students 
in  each  branch,  yet  the  common  speech  is  not  entirely  un- 
affected by  them.  Some  portion  of  the  results  of  tlie 
advancement  in  knowledge  made  by  the  wise  and  learned 
reaches  even  the  lowest,  or  all  but  the  very  lowest,  and  is 
expressed  in  their  language ;  and  it  thus  becomes  a  part  of 
the  fundamental  stock  of  ideas  which  constitute  the  heritage 
of  each  generation,  which  every  child  is  taught  to  form  and 
use.  Jianguage,  in  short,  is  expanded  and  contracted  in 
precise  adaptation  to  the  circumstances  and  needs  of  those 
who  use  it ;  it  is  enriclied  or  impoverished,  in  every  part, 
along  with  the  enrichment  or  impoveiMshmeut  of  their  minds. 
Xhia  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  most  noticeable  mode  of  change 


I 


I  J  THB    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  27 

in  language,  and  also  tlie  most  natural,  inevitable,  and  legiti- 
mate. Even  the  bigoted  purist  cannot  object  to  it,  or  wish 
it  otherwise :  conservatism  here  would  be  the  conservatism 
of  ignorance,  opposing  itself  to  the  progress  of  civilization 
and  enlightenment.  Along  with  it,  too,  comes  its  natural 
counterpart,  the  dropping  out  of  use  and  out  of  memory  oi 
words  and  meanings  of  words  and  phrases  which  circum- 
stances have  made  it  no  lonjyer  desirable  to  maintain  in 
existence ;  which  denote  the  things  of  a  by-gone  time,  or,  by 
the  substitution  of  more  acceptable  expressions,  have  become 
unnecessary  and  otiose. 

But  there  are  also  all  the  time  going  on  in  our  language 
changes  of  another  and  a  more  questionable  character, 
changes  ^\hich  alFect  the  form  rather  than  the  content  of 
speech,  and  are  in  a  sense  unnecessary,  and  therefore  stoutly 
opposed  by  the  authority  of  exact  tradition  ;  yet  which  have 
hitherto  shown  themselves  not  less  inevitable  than  the  others. 
We  have  seen  that  the  transmission  of  language  is  by  tradi- 
tion. But  traditional  transmission  is  by  its  inherent  nature 
defective.  If  a  story  cannot  pass  a  few  times  from  mouth 
to  mouth  and  maintain  its  integrity,  neither  can  a  word  pass 
from  generation  to  generation  and  keep  its  original  form. 
Very  young  children,  as  every  one  knows,  so  mutilate  their 
words  and  phrases  that  only  those  who  are  most  familiar 
with  them  can  understand  what  they  say.  But  even  an 
older  child,  who  has  learned  to  sjDeak  in  general  with  toler- 
able correctness,  has  a  special  inaptness  to  utter  a  particular 
sound,  and  either  drops  it  altogether  or  puts  another  and 
nearly  related  one  in  its  place.  There  are  certain  combina- 
tions of  consonants  which  it  cannot  manafje,  and  has  to 
mouth  over  into  more  pronounceable  shape.  It  drops  a 
syllable  or  two  from  a  long  and  cumbrous  word.  It  omits 
endings  and  confounds  forms  together  :  me,  for  instance,  has 
to  do  duty  in  its  usage  for  me,  my,  and  I ;  and  eat\  to  stand 
for  all  persons,  tenses,  and  numbers  of  the  verb.  Or,  again, 
having  learned  by  prevailing  experience  that  the  past  sense 
in  a  verb  is  signified  by  the  addition  of  a  d,  it  imagines  that, 
because  it  says  I  loved,  it  must  also  say  I  Iringed  ;  or  else, 
perhaps,  remembering  I  sang  from  I  sing,  it  says  I  hrang. 


28    '^  CHANGES    IN  [LECT 

It  s&js  foots  and  mouses  \  it  ^2lj%  gooder  and  goodest ;  it  con- 
founds sit  and  set,  lie  and  lag  (in  which  last  blunders,  unfor- 
tunately, it  is  supported  by  the  example  of  too  many  among 
the  grown-up  and  educated).  Care,  on  its  own  part  and  on 
that  of  its  instructors,  corrects  by  degrees  such  childish 
errors  ;  but  this  care  is  often  wanting  or  insufficient,  and  it 
grows  up  continuing  still  to  speak  bad  English.  Moreover, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  not  each  child  only,  but  each  man, 
to  his  dying  day,  is  a  learner  of  his  native  tongue  ;  nor  is 
there  any  one  who  is  not  liable,  from  carelessness  or  defective 
instruction,  to  learn  a  word  or  phrase  incorrectly,  or  to  re- 
produce it  inaccurately.  Tor  these  reasons  there  always  lies, 
in  full  vigour  and  currency,  in  the  lower  strata  of  language- 
users,  as  we  may  term  them — among  the  uneducated  or  half- 
educated — a  great  host  of  deviations  from  the  best  usage, 
offences  against  the  propriety  of  speech,  kept  down  in  the 
main  by  the  controlling  influence  of  good  speakers,  yet 
all  the  time  threatening  to  rise  to  the  surface,  and  now 
and  then  succeeding  in  forcing  their  way  up,  and  com- 
pelling recognition  and  acceptance  from  even  the  best  au- 
thorities. 

Of  this  origin  are  the  class  of  changes  in  language  which 
we  are  at  present  considering.  They  are,  in  their  inception, 
inaccuracies  of  speech.  They  attest  the  influence  of  that 
immense  numerical  majority  among  the  speakers  of  English 
who  do  not  take  sufficient  pains  to  speak  correctly,  but  whose 
blunders  become  finally  tlie  norm  of  the  language.  They 
are  mainly  the  results  of  two  tendencies,  already  illustrated 
in  the  instances  we  have  given  :  first,  to  make  things  easy 
to  our  organs  of  spceih,  to  economize  time  and  effort  in  the 
.  work  of  expression  ;  second,  to  get  rid  of  irregular  and  ex- 
'  ceptioual  forms,  by  extending  the  prevailing  analogies  of  the 
language.     Lot  us  look  at  a  f<nv  examples. 

Our  written  words  are  thickly  sown  with  silent  letters, 
which,  as  every  one  knows,  are  relics  of  former  modes  of 
pronunciation,  once  necessary  constituents  of  spoken  lan- 
guage, but  gradually  dropped,  because  it  was  easier  to  do 
without  them.  Instances  are  knight,  calm,  j^sabii,  tvoiihl, 
dvult,  2>lough,  thought,  awordy  chestnut.     If  we  will  but  carry 


I.]  THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  29 

our  investigations  further  back,  bevond  the  present  written 
form  of  our  words,  we  shall  light  upon  much  more  extraor- 
diuarr  cases  of  mutilation  and  abbreviation.  Thus_,  to  take 
but  a  single,  though  rather  striking,  example,  our  alms  is  the 
Scanty  relic  of  the  long  Grreek  vocable  elecihosune.  All  the 
inonosjllables,  in  fact,  of  which  especially  the  Anglo-Saxon 
portion  of  our  daily  speech  is  in  so  great  measure  composed, 
are  relics  of  long  polysyllabic  forms,  usual  at  an  earlier  stage 
of  the  language.  Some  words  are  but  just  through,  or  even 
now  passing  through,  a  like  process.  In  often  and  soften, 
good  usage  has  taken  sides  with  the  corruption  which  has 
ejected  the  t,  and  accuses  of  being  old-fashioned  or  aiFectedly 
precise  the  large  and  respectable  class  who  still  pronounce  ]-'  ^^ 
that  letter;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  clings  to  the  t  oi  J^ 
captain^  and  stigmatizes  as  vulgar  those  who  presume  to  say  >^ft\^ 
cap'n.  ' 

Again,  it  is  the  prevailing  English  custom  to  accent  a  noun 
of  two  syllables  on  its  first  syllable  ;  hosts  of  nouns  of 
^French  origin  have  had  their  native  accent  altered,  in  order 
to  conform  them  to  this  analogy.  Such  changes  have 
been  going  on  at  every  period  in  the  history  of  our  tongue : 
in  Pope,  in  Milton,  in  Shakspeare,  in  Chaucer,  you  will  find 
examples  of  their  action,  in  ever  increasing  numbers  as  you 
go  backward  from  the  present  time.  jS'or  are  they  yet  over : 
there  is  alli/,  which  all  the  authorities  agree  in  pronouncing 
aJIf/,  while  prevailing  popular  usage,  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  persists  in  favouring  dlli/ ;  and  it  is  not  unlikely 
that,  in  the  end,  the  people  will  prove  too  strong  for  the  or- 
thoepists,  as  they  have  done  so  many  times  before. 

'\\'hen  our  Bible  translation  was  made,  the  verb  speak  had 
a  proper  imperfect  form,  spake  :  a  well-educated  Englishman 
would  no  more  have  written  he  spoke  than  he  come  and  done 
if.  But,  just  as  the  ill-instructed  and  the  careless  now-a- 
days  are  often  guilty  of  these  last  two  blunders,  so  then,  un- 
doubtedly, large  numbers  habitually  said  spoke  for  spake; 
until,  at  last,  the  struggle  against  it  was  given  up  as  hope- 
less ;  and  no  one  now  says  I  spake  save  in  conscious  imita- 
tion of  Biblical  style. 

At  the  same  period,  but  two  centuries  and  a  half  ago,  the 


80  CHANGES    IN  [lBCT. 

EnglisK  language  contained  no  sucli  word  as  its.  His  had 
been,  in  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  and  ever  since,  the  common 
possessive  o\^  he  and  it  (A.-S.,  hit)  ;  it  belonged  to  the  latter 
no  less  than  to  the  fora-er.  But  almost  all  the  possessive 
cases  in  the  language  were  formed  by  adding  s  to  the  nomi- 
native, and  his  wore  the  aspect  of  being  so  formed  from  he, 
and  of  having  nothing  to  do  with  it.  AVhy  not,  then,  form 
a  new  possessive  in  like  manner  for  it  itself  ?  This  was  a 
question  which  very  probably  suggested  itself  to  a  great 
many  minds  about  the  same  time,  and  the  word  its  may 
have  sprung  up  in  a  hundred  places  at  once,  and  propagated 
itself,  under  the  ban  of  the  purists  of  the  day,  wha  frowned 
upon  it,  pronounced  it  "  as  bad  as  she'^s,  for  her,  would  be," 
and  carefully  avoided  its  use;  until  at  last  its  popularity 
and  evident  desirableness  caused  it  to  be  universally  adopt- 
ed and  recognized  as  proper.  And,  at  the  present  time,  few 
of  us  read  our  Bibles  so  curiously  as  to  have  discovered 
that  they  contain  no  such  word  as  its,  from  Genesis  to  Reve- 
lation. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  employed  ye  {ge)  as  subject  of  a  verb, 
and  you  (eoiv)  as  object,  and  the  early  English  was  careful 
to  make  the  same  distinction.  !N^or  is  it  yet  entirely 
lost  ;  but  the  use  of  ye  now  belongs  to  a  solemn  style  only, 
and  you  has  been  set  up  as  subject  not  less  than  object. 
There  was  a  time  when  you  are  for  ye  are,  and  yet  more 
for  thou  art,  would  have  been  as  offensive  to  the  ear  of 
a  correct  English  speaker  as  is  now  the  thee  is  of  the 
Quaker. 

Not  a  few  of  the  irregular  verbs  which  our  language  for- 
merly contained  have  been  in  later  usage  assimilated  to  the 
more  numerous  class,  and  conjugated  regularly.  Take  as 
examples  help,  of  which  the  ancient  participle  holpen,  instead 
oi  helped,  is  found  still  in  our  Bibles;  and  work,  which  has 
gained  a  modern  preterit  and  participle,  tcorkcil,  although 
the  older  form,  u-rouyht,  is  also  retaiiu^d  in  use,  with  a  some- 
what altered  and  specialized  signification. 

Here  are  changes  of  various  kind  and  value,  though  all 
tracing  their  origin  to  the  same  tendencies.  Words  change 
their  shape    Avithout  losing  theii'   identity  ;   old  forms,  old 


I.]  THE   ENGLISH   LAN«IUAGE.  31 

marks  of  distinction,  are  neglected  and  lost :  some  of  these 
coidd  AY  ell  be  spared,  but  others  were  valuable,  and  their 
relinquishment  has  impaired  the  power  of  expression  of  the 
lanouage  ;  while  new  forms  are  created,  and  new  marks  of 
distinction  are  adopted  into  general  use,  and  made  part  and 
parcel  of  English  speech. 

So  full  and  abundant  illustration  of  this  department  of 
change  in  language  as  might  be  desired  cannot  be  drawn 
from  facts  with  which  we  are  all  familiar,  because,  for  some 
time  past,  the  conservative  forces  have  been  so  powerful  iu 
our  mother-tongue,  and  the  accuracy  of  historical  trans- 
mission so  strict,  that  what  is  now  good  English  has,  in  the 
main,  long  been  such,  and  is  likely  long  to  continue  such. 
Its  alteration  goes  on  so  slowly  that  we  hardly  perceive  it 
in  progress,  and  it  is  only  as  we  compare  the  condition  of 
the  language  at  a  given  time  with  that  which  it  shows  at 
the  distance  of  a  considerable  interval,  earlier  or  later,  that 
they  come  clearly  to  light.  The  English  is,  indeed,  among 
all  cultivated  tongues,  the  one  which  has  suffered,  under  the 
influences  which  we  have  been  describing,  the  most  thorough 
and  pervading  change  of  its  grammar  and  vocabulary  ;  but 
the  greater  part  of  this  change  occurred  at  a  certain  definite 
period,  and  from  the  eflect  of  circumstances  which  are  well 
known.  Our  English  ancestors,  between  the  time  of  Alfred 
and  that  of  Cliaucer,  endured  the  irruption  and  conquest  of 
a  Erench-speaking  people,  the  IS^ormans — ^just  as  did  the 
Irish,  at  a  later  day,  that  of  the  English.  ,  That  the  Saxons 
did  notylike  the  Irish,  gradually  relinquish' their  own  tongue, 
and  learutto  talk  Erencb  altogether,  was  owing  to  their  ad- 
vanced culture  and  superior  independence  of  character : 
after  a  long  time  of  confusion  and  mutual  unintelligibility, 
as  every  one  knows,  the  Saxons  gave  up  a  part  of  their 
vocabulary  for  that  of  the  Normans,  and  the  Normans  a 
part  of  theirs,  with  nearly  all  their  grammar,  for  those  of 
the  Saxons,  and  our  present  composite  dialect,  with  its  mea- 
gre system  of  grammatical  inflections,  was  the  result.  The 
example  is  an  extreme  one  of  the  transformation  which  a 
language  may  be  made  to  undergo  in  the  lapse  of  a  few 


32  CHAJJACTERISTICS    OF  [lECT, 

generations,  at  the  bidding  of  iiuperious  circumstances;  aa 
the  present  stability  of  the  same  hiiigiiage  is  an  extreme 
sxample  of  Avhat  favouring  circumstances  can  do  to  prevent 
change,  and  maintain  the  integrity  of  speech. 

The  facts  and  conditions  -which  we  have  been  considering 
are  of  no  exceptional  character :  on  the  contrary,  they  are 
common  to  all  the  forms  of  speech  current  among  the  sons 
of  men.  Throughout  the  world,  the  same  description,  in  its 
essential  features,  will  be  found  to  hold  good.  Every 
epolvcn  language  is  a  congeries  of  individual  signs,  called 
V'ords  ;  and  each  word  (with  the  rare  exception  of  the  actual 
additions  made  by  individuals  to  language,  of  which  we  shall 
take  account  latei')  was  learned  by  every  person  who  em- 
ploys it  from  some  other  person  v.ho  had  employed  it  before 
him.  He  adopted  it  as  the  sign  of  a  certain  idea,  because 
■•t  was  already  in  use  by  others  as  such.  Inner  and  essen- 
tial connection  between  idea  and  word,  Avhereby  the  mind 
which  conceives  the  one  at  once  apprehends  and  produces 
the  other,  there  is  none,  in  any  language  upon  earth.  Every 
existing  form  of  human  speech  is  a  body  of  arbitrary  and 
conventional  signs  for  thought,  handed  down  by  tradition 
from  one  generation  to  another,  no  individual  in  any  genera- 
tion receiving  or  transmitting  the  whole  body,  but  the  sum 
of  the  separate  givings  and  takings  being  effective  to  keep 
it  in  existence  without  essential  loss.  Yet  the  process  of 
traditional  transmission  always  has  been,  is  now,  and  Avill 
ever  continue  to  be,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  an  imperfect 
one :  no  language  remains,  or  can  remain,  the  same  during 
a  long  period  of  time.  Growth  and  change  make  the  life  of 
language,  as  they  are  everywhere  else  the  inseparable  accom- 
paniment and  sign  of  life.  A  language  is  living,  when  it  is 
the  instrument  of  thought  of  a  whole  people,  the  wonted 
means  of  expression  of  all  their  feelings,  experiences,  opin- 
ions, reasonings;  when  the  connection  between  it  and  tlieir 
mental  activity  is  so  close  that  the  one  reflects  the  otlicr, 
and  that  the  two  grow  together,  the  instrument  ever  adapt- 
ing itself  to  the  uses  which  it  is  to  subserve.  The  ways  in 
which  this   adaptation  takes  place,   and  the  causes  which 


I.]  UNIVERSAL    :^NGUAGE.  33 

accel?-rate  or  retard  the  inevitab.e  change  of  language,  have 
been  already  in  part  glanced  at,  and  will  come  np  for  more 
detailed  examination  hereafter ;  it  is  sufficient  at  present 
that  \Ye  fully  recognize  the  fact  of  change.  It  is  the  funda- 
mental fact  upon  which  rests  the  whole  method  of  linguiGti<» 
study. 


LECTUEE  11. 

Nature  of  tlie  force  which  produces  the  changes  of  language  ;  its  modes 
of  action.  Language  an  institution,  of  historical  growth  ;  it^s  study  a 
moral  science.  Analogies  of  linguistic  science  with  the  phys  cal  sci- 
ences. Its  methods  historical.  Etymology  its  foundation.  Analysis 
of  compound  words.  Genesis  of  affixes.  Nature  of  all  words  as  pro- 
duced by  actual  composition. 

In  the  preceding  lecture,  after  a  very  brief  survey  of  the 
history  and  objects  of  linguistic  science,  we  entered  upon  an 
inquiry  into  the  means  by  which  we  had  become  possessed 
of  our   mother-tongue,   an   inquiry   intended    to    bring   out 
to  our  view  tlie  mode  of  transmission  and  preservation  of 
language  in   general.     And   we    saw  that  it  is  the  work  of 
tradition  ;    that  each  generation  passes  along  to  the  genera- 
tion succeeding,  with  such  faithfulness  as  the  nature  of  the 
case  permits,  the  store  of  words,  phrases,  and  constructions 
which   constitute   the   substance  of  a  spoken  tongue.     But 
we  also  saw  that  the  process  of  transmission  is  uniformly  an 
imperfect  one  ;  that   it   never     succeeds    in     keeping    any 
language  entirely  pure  and  unaltered:   on  the  contrary,  lan- 
guage appeared  to  us  as  undergoing,  everywhere  and  alw  ays, 
a   slow  process  of  modification,   which   in   course   of   time 
eftects  a  considerable  change  in  its  constitution,  rendering  it 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  new  tongue.      This  was  illus- 
trated  from   the   history  of  our    English    speech,  which,  by 
gradual  and  accumulated  alterations  made  in  it,  during  the 
past   thousand   years,   by   the    thirty    or   forty    generations 
through   whose  mouths  it  has  passed,  has  gro\vu  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon  of  King  Alfred,  through  a  succession  of  inter. 


II.]  WHAT  CHANGES  LANGUAGE.  35 

mediate  phases,  into  wliat  it  is  at  present.  Before,  now,  we 
go  on  to  examine  in  detail  the  processes  of  linguistic  change, 
setting  forth  more  fully  their  causes  and  modes  of  action, 
and  exhibiting  their  results  upon  a  more  extended  scale,  wo 
have  to  draw  from  what  >  has  been  already  said  one  or  two 
important  conclusions,  touching  the  nature  of  the  force  by 
which  those  processes  are  carried  on,  and  the  character,  and 
place  among  the  sciences,  of  the  study  which  undertakes 
their  investigation. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  we  see,  I  think,  from  our  examina- 
tion of  the  manner  in  which  language  is  learned  and  taught, 
in  which  its  life  is  kept  up,  what  is  meant  when  we  speak 
and  write  of  it  as  having  an  independent  or  objective  existence, 
as  being  an  organism  or  possessing  an  organic  structure, 
as  having  laws  of  growth,  as  feeling  tendencies,  as  develop- 
ing, as  adapting  itself  to  our  needs,  and  so  on.  All  these 
are  figurative  expressions,  the  language  of  trope  and  metaphor, 
not  of  plain  fact ;  they  are  wholly  unobjectionable  when  con- 
sciously employed  in  their  proper  character,  for  the  sake  of 
brevity  or  liveliness  of  delineation ;  they  are  only  harmful 
when  we  allow  them  to  blind  us  to  the  real  nature  of 
the  truths  they  represent.  Language  has,  in  fact,  no  exist- 
ence save  in  the  minds  and  mouths  of  those  who  use  it ;  it 
is  made  up  of  separate  articulated  signs  of  thought,  each  of 
which  is  attached  by  a  mental  association  to  the  idea  it 
represents,  is  uttered  by  voluntary  eff'ort,  and  has  its  value 
and  currency  only  by  the  agreement  of  speakers  and  hearers. 
It  is  in  their  power,  subject  to  their  will;  as  it  is  kept  up, 
so  is  it  modified  and  altered,  so  may  it  be  abandoned,  by 
their  joint  and  consenting  action,  and  in  no  other  way  what- 
soever. 

This  truth  is  not  only  often  lost  from  view  by  those  who 
think  and  reason  respecting  language,  but  it  is  also  some- 
times explicitly  denied,  and  the  opposite  doctrine  is  set  up, 
that  language  has  a  life  and  growth  independent  of  its 
speakers,  with  which  men  cannot  interfere.  A  recent 
popular  writer  *  asserts  that,  "  although  there  is  a  continu- 

*  Professor  Mas  Miiller,  in  his  Lectures  on  the  Science  of  LaDgU£g% 
first  series,  second  lecture. 


36  \YHAT  FORCE  rRODucp:s  [lect. 

0U3  change  iu  language,  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  man 
either  to  produce  or  to  prevent  it :  \ve  might  think  as  ^vell 
of  chanfrins:  tlie  laws  which  control  the  circulation  of  our 
blood,  or  of  adding  an  inch  to  our  height,  as  of  altering  the 
laws  of  speech,  or  inventing  new  words  according  to  our 
own  pleasure."  Then,  in  order  to  establish  the  truth  of  this 
opinion,  he  goes  on  to  cite  a  couple  of  historical  instances, 
in  wliich  two  famous  emperors,  Tiberius  of  Home  and  Sigis- 
mund  of  Grermany,  committed  blunders  in  their  Latin,  and 
were  taken  to  task  and  corrected  by  humble  grammarians, 
who  informed  their  imperial  majesties  that,  however  great 
and  absolute  their  power  might  be,  it  was  not  competent  to 
make  an  alteration  in  the  Latin  language.  The  argument 
and  conclusion  we  may  take  to  be  of  this  character :  If  so 
liigb  and  mighty  a  personage  as  an  emperor  could  not  do  so 
small  a  thing  as  alter  the  gender  and  termination  of  a  single 
word — not  even,  as  Sigismund  attempted,  in  a  language 
which  was  dead,  and  might  therefore  be  supposed  incapable 
of  making  resistance  to  the  indignity — much  less  can  any 
'jne  of  inferior  consideration  hope  to  accomplish  such  a 
cliange,  or  any  other  of  the  cliauges,  of  greater  or  less 
account,  which  make  up  the  history  of  speech  :  therefore, 
language  is  incapable  of  alteration  by  its  speakers. 

The  utter  futility  of  deriving  such  a  doctrine  from  such  a 
pair  of  incidents,  or  from  a  score,  a  hundred,  or  a  thousand 
like  them,  is  almost  too  obvious  to  be  worth  the  trouble  of 
pointing  out.  Against  what  authority  more  mighty  than 
their  own  did  these  two  emperors  oileud  ?  Simply  against 
the  immemorial  and  well-defined  usage  of  all  who  wrote 
and  had  ever  written  Latin — nothing  more  and  nothing 
less.  High  political  station  does  not  confer  the  right 
to  make  and  unmake  language ;  a  sovereign's  grammatical 
blunders  do  not  become  the  law  of  speech  to  his  subjects, 
any  more  than  do  those  of  the  private  man.  Each  indi- 
vidual is,  in  a  way,  constantly  trying  experiments  of  modifi- 
cation upon  his  mother-tongue,  from  the  time  when,  as 
a  child,  he  drops  sounds  and  syllables  which  it  does  not  suit 
his  convenience  to  pronounce,  and  frames  inflections  upon 
mistaken  analogies,  to  that  when,  as  a  man,  he  is  guilty  of 


II.]  THE  CHANGES  OF  LANGUAGE.  37 

slang,  vulgarisms,  and  bad  grammar,  or  indulges  in  ir.anner- 
isms  and  artificial  conceits,  or  twists  words  out  of  their  true 
uses,  from  ignorance  or  caprice.  But  his  individual  influ- 
ence is  too  weak  to  make  head  against  the  consenting  usage 
of  the  community  ;  his  proposals,  unles3  for  special  reasons, 
are  passed  over  unnoticed,  and  he  is  forced  to  conform  hia 
speech  to  that  of  the  rest ;  or,  if  he  insist  upon  his  in- 
dependence, he  is  contemned  as  a  blunderer,  or  laughed  at 
as  a  humourist. 

That  an  alteration  should  have  been  made  at  the  time  of 
Sigismund  in  any  item  of  Latin  grammar,  either  by  the  em- 
peror himself,  or  by  all  the  potentates  and  learned  men 
of  Christendom,  was  an  impossibility.  Tor  the  language 
was  a  dead  one  ;  its  proprieties  of  speech  were  no  longer 
dependent  upon  the  sanction  of  present  usage,  but  upon 
the  authority  of  unchanging  models.  Much  that  we  say  is 
good  English,  though  Shakspeare  and  Milton  knew  it  not ; 
nothing  can  be  good  Latin,  unless  it  be  found  in  Cicero  and 
Virgil,  or  their  compeers.  And  even  under  Tiberius,  the 
case  was  nearly  the  same :  the  great  authors  whose  example 
makes  the  law  of  Latin  speech  had  already  lived  and  written; 
and  any  deviation  from  their  usage  would  have  been  recog- 
nized by  all  coming  time  as  a  later  corruption.  Hence, 
even  had  that  emperor's  blunder  been  accepted  and  slavishly 
imitated  by  his  courtiers,  his  army,  and  his  subjects  at 
large,  their  consent  could  have  made  it  good  second-rate 
Latin  only  ;  it  might  have  become  the  very  best  usage  in 
the  later  Italian,  Erench,  and  ISpanish,  but  it  would  always 
have  been  rejected  and  avoided  by  the  strict  classicists. 
And  all  this,  not  for  the  reason  that  man  has  no  power  over 
language,  but  precisely  for  the  contrary  reason,  that  he  has 
all  power  over  it — that  men's  usage  makes  language.  He, 
accordingly,  who  can  direct  usage  can  make  or  alter  language. 
In  this  way  only  can  exalted  rank  confer  authority  over 
speech  :  it  can  give  a  more  powerful  impulse  toward  that 
general  acceptance  and  currency  which  anything  must  win 
in  order  to  be  language.  There  are  instances  on  record  in 
which  the  pun  of  a  monarch  has  changed  for  all  time  the 
form  of  a  TOid.      Ethnologists  well  know  that  the  name  of 


38  HOW   ADDITIONS    TO  [lECT. 

the  so-called  "  Tartar  "  race  is  properly  Tatar,  and  tliej  are 
now  endeavouring  to  restore  this,  its  correct  orthography. 
The  intrusion  of  the  r  is  accounted  for  in  the  following  man- 
ner. When,  in  the  reign  of  St  Louis  of  France,  the 
hordes  of  this  savage  race  were  devastating  eastern  Europe, 
the  tale  of  their  ravages  was  brought  to  the  pious  king,  who 
exclaimed  with  horror  :  "  Well  may  they  be  called  Tartars, 
for  their  deeds  are  those  of  jBends  from  Tartarus.''^  The 
appositeness  of  the  metamorphosed  appellation  made  it  take, 
and  from  that  time  French  authors — and,  after  their  ex- 
ample, the  rest  of  Europe — have  called  the  Tatars  "  Tartars." 
Whether  the  story  is  incontestably  authentic  or  not  is 
of  small  consequence  :  any  one  can  see  that  it  might  be  true, 
and  that  such  causes  may  have  produced  such  eifects  times 
innumerable. 

The  speakers  of  language  thus  constitute  a  republic,  or 
rather,  a  democracy,  in  which  authority  is  conferred  only 
by  general  suffrage  and  for  due  cause,  and  is  exercised 
under  constant  supervision  and  control.  Individuals  are 
abundantly  permitted  to  make  additions  to  the  common 
speech,  if  there  be  reason  for  it,  and  if,  in  their  w^ork,  they 
respect  the  sense  of  the  community.  When  the  first 
schooner  ever  built,  on  the  coast  of  Massachusetts,  slid 
from  her  stocks  and  floated  gracefully  upon  the  water,  the 
chance  exclamation  of  an  admiring  by-stander,  *'  Oh,  how 
B\\e  scoons  !''  drew  from  her  contriver  and  builder  the  an- 
swer, "  A  scooner  let  her  be,  then,"  and  made  a  new  English 
word.  The  community  ratified  his  act,  and  accepted  the 
word  he  proposed,  because  the  new  thing  wanted  a  new 
name,  and  there  was  no  one  else  so  well  entitled  as  he  to 
name  it  ;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  assumed  to  christen 
a  man-of-war  a  scoonrr,  no  one  but  his  nearest  neighbours 
would  ever  have  heard  of  the  attempt.  The  discoverer  of  a 
new  asteroid,  again,  is  allowed  to  select  its  title,  provided 
he  choose  the  name  of  some  classical  goddess,  as  is  the 
established  precedent  for  such  cases  —  although,  even  then, 
he  is  liable  to  have  the  motives  of  his  choice  somewhat 
Bhar()ly  lo<)kcd  into.  The  Enijlish  astronomer  who  sought, 
a  few  years  since,  w  ith  covert  loyalty,  to  call  his  planetling 


r 


II.]  LANGUAGE    ARE    MADE.  89 

"  Victoria,"  was  compelled  to  retract  the  appellation  and 
offer  another.  An  acute  and  learned  Italian  physician, 
Bome  time  in  the  last  century,  discovered  a  new  physical 
force,  and  some  one  called  it  galvanism,  after  his  name. 
Many  of  us  well  remember  how,  not  long  ago,  a  French 
savant  devised  a  novel  and  universally  interesting  application 
of  certain  chemical  processes  ;  and  here,  again,  by  some  per- 
son to  whose  act  the  community  gave  its  assent,  the  product 
was  named  for  its  inventor  a  daguerreotype  :  and  galvanism  and 
dagii^erreotype,  with  their  derivatives,  are  now  as  genuine  and 
well  established  parts  of  the  English  language  as  are  sun 
and  moon,  ot  father  and  mother.  If  Gralvani  had  denominated 
his  new  principle  ahracadalra,  or  if  Daguerre  had  styled  his 
Bun-pictures  aldiborontiphoscophoryiios,  these  names  would, 
indeed,  have  been  not  less  inherently  suitable  than  the  ones 
actually  chosen,  in  the  view  of  the  great  majority  of  those 
who  have  since  learned  to  use  the  latter ;  for  compara- 
tively few  have  ever  heard  of  the  two  eminent  discoverers, 
or  learned  enough  of  Greek  to  be  able  to  perceive  the  ety- 
mological aptness  of  type  ;  yet  those  who  are  accustomed  to 
direct  public  opinion  upon  such  subjects  would  have  revolted, 
and  insisted  upon  the  substitution  of  other  titles,  which 
should  seem  to  them  to  possess  an  obvious  reason  and  ap- 
plicability. The  public  has  locked  on  quietly,  during  the 
last  half-century,  while  the  geologists  have  been  bringing 
into  our  English  speech  their  flood  of  new  words,  nouns, 
adjectives,  and  verbs,  of  various  origin  and  not  seldom  of 
uncouth  and  barbarous  aspect,  wherewith  to  signify  the  new 
knowledge  added  by  them  to  the  common  stock  that  we  all 
draw  from :  these  gentlemen  know  best ;  if  they  agree 
among  themselves  that  necessity  and  propriety  require  us  to 
say  Silurian,  paloeontological,  oolite,  post-pleiocene,  and  the 
like,  we  are  ready  to  do  so,  whether  our  acquaintance  with 
ancient  and  modern  geography  jjnd  with  the  classical  tonguea 
be  or  be  not  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  discover  or  appreciate 
the  reason  of  each  term. 

But  even  in  respect  to  the  more  intimate  and  sacred  part  of 
language,  the  words  and  phrases  of  universal  and  every-day 
use,  the  community  confers  some  measure  of  authority  upou 


40  HOW   ADDITIONS   TO  [LECT. 

those  who  have  a  just  title  to  it,  upon  great  masters  in  the 
art  of  speech,  upon  speakers  whose  eloquence  carries  cap- 
tive all  hearts,  upon  writers  whose  power  in  wielding  the 
common  instrument  of*  thought  is  felt  and  acknowledged 
through  all  ranks.  Such  a  one  maj  now  and  then  coin  a 
new  word,  if  he  follow  established  analogies ;  he  may  revive 
and  bring  again  into  currency  one  which  had  fallen  into 
desuetude  ;  he  may  confer  on  an  old  word  a  new  value, 
not  too  far  dilferiug  from  that  already  belonging  to  it — and 
the  license  shall  be  ratified  by  general  acceptance.  A  great 
author  may,  by  his  single  authority,  turn  the  trembling  scale 
in  favour  of  the  admission  to  good  usage  of  some  popular 
word  or  phrase,  born  of  an  original  corruption  or  blunder, 
which  had  hitherto  been  frowned  upon  and  banned  ;  nay, 
even  his  mannerisms  and  conceits  may  perhaps  become  the 
law  of  the  language.  The  maxim  usus  norma  loquendij 
*  usage  is  the  rule  of  speech,'  is  of  supreme  and  uncontrolled 
validity  in  every  part  and  parcel  of  every  human  tongue, 
and  each  individual  can  make  his  fellows  talk  and  write  as 
he  does  just  in  proportion  to  the  influence  which  they  are 
disposed  to  concede  to  him. 

In  a  language  circumstanced  like  ours,  a  conscious  and 
detailed  discussion  sometimes  arises  on  the  question  of  ad- 
mitting some  new  word  into  its  recognized  vocabulary.  We 
all  remember  the  noAvspaper  controversy,  not  long  ago,  as  to 
whether  we  ought  to  call  a  message  sent  by  telegrapli  a 
telegrajpli  or  a  telegram;  and  many  of  us,  doubtless,  are  yet 
waiting  to  see  how  the  authorities  settle  it,  that  we  may 
govern  our  own  usage  accordingly.  "We  have  a  suffix  able, 
whicli,  like  a  few  others  that  we  possess,  we  use  pretty  freely 
in  forming  new  words.  Within  no  very  long  time  past,  some 
writers  and  speakers  have  added  it  to  the  verb  rely,  foi-miug 
the  adjective  reliable.  The  same  thing  must  have  been  done 
at  nearly  the  same  time  to  other  verbs,  awakening  neither 
question  nor  objection  ;  while,  nevertheless,  reliable  is  still 
shut  out  from  the  best — or,  at  least,  from  the  most  exclusive 
' — society  in  English  speech.  And  why  ?  Because,  in  the 
first  place,  say  the  objectors,  the  word  is  unnecessary ;  we 
have  already  iruatworthg,  which  means  the  same  thing :  fur* 


II.]  LANGUAGE    ARE    MADE.  41 

ther,  it  is  improperly  and  falsely  formed ;  as  we  say  "  to 
rely  on  "  anything,  our  derivative  adjective,  if  we  make  one, 
should  be  relionahle,  not  reliable  :  finally,  it  is  low-caste  ;  A, 
B,  and  C,  those  prime  authorities  in  English  style,  are  care- 
ful never  to  let  it  slip  from  their  pens.  The  other  side, 
however,  are  obstinate,  and  do  not  yield  the  point.  The 
first  objection,  they  retort,  is  insufficient ;  no  one  can  pro- 
perly oppose  the  enrichment  of  the  language  by  a  synonym, 
which  may  yet  be  made  to  distinguish  a  valuable  shade  of 
meaning — Avhich,  indeed,  already  shows  signs  of  doing  so,  as 
we  tend  to  say  "  a  trusficortliy  witness,"  but  "  reliahle  testi- 
mony." The  second  is  false  :  English  etymology  is  by  no 
means  so  precise  in  its  application  of  the  suffix  alle  as  the 
objectors  claim  ;  it  admits  lauyliahle,  meaning  '  worthy  to  be 
laughed  at,^  unaccountahle,  'not  to  be  accounted ybr,'  indis- 
pensahle,  '  not  to  be  dispensed  with,'  as  well  as  many  other 
words  of  the  same  kind ;  and  even  ohjectionahle,  '  liable  to 
objection,'  marriageable,  '  fit  for  marriage,'  and  so  forth.  As 
for  the  third  objection,  whatever  A,  B,  and  C  may  do,  it  is 
certain  that  D^  E,  and  H,  with  most  of  the  lower  part  of  the 
alphabet  (including  nearly  all  the  X's,  T's,  and  Z's,  the  un- 
known quantities),  use  the  new  form  freely  ;  and  it  is  vain 
to  stand  out  against  the  full  acceptance  of  a  word  which  is 
supported  by  so  much  and  so  respectable  authoi-ity.  How 
the  dispute  is  likely,  or  ought,  to  terminate,  need  not  concern 
us  here  ;  it  is  only  referred  to  because,  while  itself  carried 
on  in  full  consciousness,  and  on  paper,  it  is  a  typical  illus- 
tration of  a  whole  class  of  discussions  which  go  on  silently, 
and  even  more  or  less  unconsciously,  in  the  minds  before 
which  is  presented,  for  acceptance  or  rejection,  any  proposed 
alteration  in  the  subsisting  usages  of  speech.  Is  it  called 
for  ?  is  it  accordant  with  the  analogies  of  the  language  ?  is 
it  offered  or  backed  by  good  authority  ?  these  are  the  con- 
siderations by  which  general  consent  is  won  or  repelled  ;  and 
general  consent  decides  every  case  without  appeal. 

Dcwnright  additions,  however,  to  the  vocabulary  of  a 
spoken  tongue,  even  those  who  hold  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
orgfuic  life  of  language  will  probably  be  willing  to  ascribe 
to  1  uman  agency  j  since  no  man  in  his  sober  senses,  it  would 


42  HOW   PHONETIC   CHANGES    IN  [lECT. 

seem,  could  possibly  maintain  that,  when  some  individual 
mind  has  formed  a  conception  or  drawn  a  deduction,  or  when 
some  individual  ingenuity  has  brought  forth  a  product  of  any 
of  the  modes  of  activity  of  which  man  is  capable,  language 
itself  spontaneously  extrudes  a  word  for  its  designation  ! 
He  who  sees  is  likewise  he  who  says  ;"  the  ingenuity  that 
could  find  the  thing  was  never  at  a  loss  to  devise  also  its 
appelhition. 

But  the  case  is  not  otherwise  with  those  gradual  changes 
which  bring  about  the  decay  of  grammatical  structure,  or 
the  metamorphosis  of  phonetic  form,  in  a  languaLje.  Though 
they  go  on  in  a  more  covert  and  unacknowledged  way  than 
the  augmentations  of  a  vocabulary,  they  are  due  to  the 
action  of  the  same  forces.  If  we  write  Icnight,  and  pronounce 
it  nit,  while  our  ancestors  spelled  the  word  cniht,  and  made 
its  every  letter  distinctly  audible  (giving  the  i  our  short  i- 
sound,  as  in  phi) — just  as  the  Grermans  even  now  both  write 
and  speak  the  same  word  knecht — we  know  that  it  is  not 
because,  by  any  force  inherent  in  the  word  itself,  the  fuller 
form  grew  into  the  simpler,  but  because  the  combination  kn, 
as  initial,  -was  somewhat  difficult  for  men's  organs  to  utter, 
and  therefore  began  to  lose  its  k,  first,  in  the  mouths  of 
careless  and  easy  speakers  ;  and  the  corruption  went  on 
gaining  in  popularity,  until  it  became  the  rule  of  our  speech 
to  silence  the  mute  before  the  nasal  in  all  such  words  (as  in 
knife,  knit,  gnat,  gnaw,  etc.)  ;  because,  moreover,  the  sound 
of  tlie  guttural  h  after  a  vowel  became  unpopular,  men's 
organs  shrinking  from  the  effort  of  producing  it,  and  was 
finally  got  rid  of  everywhere  (being  either  left  out  entirely, 
as  in  nigh,  ought,  or  turned  into/)  as  in  laugh,  cough')  ;  while, 
at  the  same  time,  the  loss  of  this  consonant  led  to  a  pro- 
longation of  the  vowel  i,  which  was  cliaiii^ed  into  the  diph- 
thongal sound  we  now  give  it ;  in  company,  too,  with  so 
many  other  of  the  "  long  z's  "  of  the  older  language,  that  our 
usual  name  at  present  for  tlie  diphthoi^g  is  ''  long  i."  And 
BO  in  all  the  multitude  of  similar  cases.  There  is  no  neces- 
sity, physiological  or  other,  for  the  rustic's  saying  kiiu  for 
cow;  only  the  former  is  a  lazy  drawling  utterance,  which 
opens  the  mouth  leas  widely  than  the  latter.     A  precisely 


II.]  LANGUAGE    ARE   MADE.  43 

Bimilar  flattening  of  the  simple  sound  of  «,  in  sucli  words  as 
grasp,  graft,  dance — which  but  a  brief  time  since  were  uni- 
versally pronounced  grasp,  graft,  dance  (a  as  inyar),  and  are 
so  still  in  certain  localities — is  now  so  common  as  to  have 
become  the  accepted  mode  of  utterance  ;  but  no  one  fails  to 
recognize  in  it  a  corruption  of  the  previous  pronunciation, 
made  current  by  example  and  imitation,  prompted  and  re- 
commended by  that  lazy  habit  of  mouth  which  has  occasion- 
ed the  dimming  of  so  many  of  O'.ir  clear  vowels.  The  pro- 
nunciation either  and  neither  seems  at  the  present  time  to  be 
spreading  in  our  community,  and  threatening  to  crowd  out 
of  use  the  better-supported  and  more  analogical  *  either  and 
neither ;  but  it  is  only  by  the  deliberate  choice  of  persons 
who  fancy  that  there  is  something  nicer,  more  recherche^ 
more  "  English,"  in  the  new  sound,  and  by  imitation  of 
these  on  the  part  of  others.  Such  phonetic  changes,  we  are 
accustomed  to  say,  are  inevitable,  and  creep  in  of  them- 
selves ;  but  that  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  we  know 
not  who  in  particular  is  to  blame  for  them.  Offences  must 
needs  come,  but  there  is  always  that  man  by  whom  they 
come,  could  w^e  but  trace  him  out. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  longer  upon  this  point,  or  to 
illustrate  it  more  fully,  inasmuch  as  even  those  who  teach 
the  independent  existence  and  organic  growth  of  language 
yet  allow  that  phonetic  change  is  the  work  of  men,  endea- 
vouring to  make  things  easy  to  their  organs  of  speech. 

A  language  in  the  condition  in  which  ours  is  at  present, 
when  thousands  of  eyes  are  jealously  watching  its  integrity, 
and  a  thousand  pens  are  ready  to  be  drawn,  and  dyed  deep 
in  ink,  to  challenge  and  oppose  the  introduction  into  it  of 
any  corrupt  form,  of  any  new  and  uncalled-for  element,  can, 
of  course,  undergo  only  the  slowest  and  the  least  essential 
alteration.  It  is  when  the  common  speech  is  in  the  sole 
keeping  of  the  uncultivated  and  careless  speakers,  who  care 
little  for  classical  and  time-honoured  usages,  to  whom  the 
preferences  of  the  moment  are  of  more  account  than  auy- 

*  The  only  English -svord  in  which  ^Hi  as  the  "Ions:  z"  sound  is  heiyht, 
«nd  even  there  it  is  nothing  hut  an  old  orthograpliical  hhinder ;  there  wa« 
ao  reason  for  divorcing  the  derivative  noun  in  spelling  from  its  theme,  high 


44  ACTION    ON    LANGUAGE    OF   INDIVIDUALS,  [lECT. 

thing  in  tlie  past  or  in  the  future,  that  mutation  has  its  full 
course.  New  dialects  are  wont  to  grow  up  among  tlie  com- 
mon people,  while  the  speech  of  the  educated  and  lettered 
class  continues  to  be  what  it  has  been.  But  the  nature  of 
the  forces  in  action  is  the  same  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other  :  all  chan<]:e  in  lau^juasfe  is  the  work  of  the  will  of  its 
speakers,  which  acts  under  the  government  of  motives, 
through  the  organs  of  speech,  and  varies  their  products 
to  suit  its  necessities  and  its  convenience.  Every  single 
item  of  alteration,  of  whatever  kind,  and  of  whatever  degree 
of  importance,  goes  back  to  some  individual  or  individuals, 
who  set  it  in  circulation,  from  whose  example  it  gained  a 
wider  and  wider  currency,  until  it  finally  won  that  general 
assent  which  is  alone  required  in  order  to  make  anything  in 
language  proper  and  authoritative.  Linguistic  change  must 
be  gradual,  and  almost  int^ensible  while  in  progress,  for  the 
reason  that  the  general  assent  can  be  but  slowly  gained,  and 
can  b3  gained  for  nothing  which  is  too  far  removed  from 
former  usage,  and  which  therefore  seems  far-fetched,  arbi- 
trary, or  unintelligible.  The  collective  influence  of  all  the 
established  analogies  of  a  language  is  exerted  against  any 
daring  innovation,  as,  on  the  other  hand,  it  aids  one  which 
is  obvious  and  naturally  suggested.  It  was,  for  instance, 
no  difficult  matter  for  popular  usage  to  introduce  the  new 
possessive  its  into  English  speech,  nor  to  add  loorked  to 
wrought,  as  preterit  of  work,  nor  to  replace  the  ancient 
plural  kye  or  kine  (Anglo-Saxon  cy,  from  cu,  '  cow  ')  by  a 
modern  one,  cows,  formed  after  the  ordinary  model :  while 
to  reverse  either  process,  to  crowd  its,  ivorked,  and  cows  out 
of  use  by  substitution  of  liis,  icrought,  and  kine,  would  have 
been  found  utterly  impracticable.  The  power  of  resistance 
to  change  possessed  by  a  great  popular  institution,  which  is 
bound  up  with  the  interests  of  the  whole  community,  and  is 
a  part  of  every  man's  thoughts  and  habitual  acts,  is  not 
easily  to  be  overestimated.  How  long  has  it  taken  to  per- 
suade and  force  the  French  people,  for  instance,  into  the 
adoption  of  the  new  decimal  system  of  weights  and  mea- 
sures !  IIow  have  they  been  baflled  and  shamed  who  have 
thought,  in  these  latter  days,  to  amend  in  a  few  points,  of 


II.J  AIST)   07   THE    COMMUNITY.  45 

obvious  desirability,  our  English  orthography  !  But  speech 
is  a  thing  of  far  nearer  and  higher  importance  ;  it  is  the 
most  precious  of  our  possessions,  the  instrument  of  our 
thouglits,  the  organ  of  our  social  nature,  the  means  of  our 
culture  ;  its  use  is  not  daily  or  hourly  alone,  but  momently ; 
it  is  the  first  thing  we  learn,  the  last  vre  forget  ;  it  is  the 
most  intimate  and  clinging  of  our  habits,  and  almost  a 
second  nature :  and  hence  its  exemption  from  all  s\Yeeping 
or  arbitrary  change.  The  community,  to  whom  it  belongs, 
will  sufter  no  finger  to  be  laid  upon  it  without  a  reason  ; 
only  such  modifications  as  commend  themselves  to  the 
general  sense,  as  are  virtually  the  carrying  out  of  tendencies 
universally  felt,  have  a  chance  of  winning  approval  and 
acceptance,  and  so  of  being  adopted  into  use,  and  made 
language. 

Thus  it  is  indeed  true  that  the  individual  has  no  power 
to  change  language.  But  it  is  not  true  in  any  sense  which 
excludes  his  agency,  but  only  so  far  as  that  agency  is  con- 
fessed to  be  inoperative  except  as  it  is  ratified  by  those 
about  him.  Speech  and  the  changes  of  speech  are  the  work 
of  the  community  ;  but  the  community  cannot  act  except 
through  the  initiative  of  its  individual  members,  which  it 
follows  or  rejects.  The  work  of  each  individual  is  done  un- 
premeditatedly,  or  as  it  were  unconsciously ;  each  is  intent 
only  on  using  the  common  possession  for  his  own  benefit, 
serving  therewith  his  private  ends  ;  but  each  is  thus  at  the 
same  time  an  actor  in  the  great  work  of  perpetuating  and  of 
shaping  the  general  speech.  So  each  separate  polyp  on 
a  coral-bank  devotes  himself  simply  to  the  securing  of  his 
own  food,  and  excretes  calcareous  matter  only  in  obedience 
to  the  exigencies  of  his  individual  life  ;  but,  as  the  joint  re- 
sult of  the  isolated  labours  of  all,  there  slowly  rises  in  the 
water  the  enormous  coral  clifi",  a  barrier  for  the  waves  to 
dash  themselves  against  in  vain.  To  pick  out  a  single  man, 
were  he  even  an  emperor,  and  hold  him  up  to  view  in  his 
impotence  as  proof  that  men  cannot  make  or  alter  language, 
is  precisely  equivalent  to  selecting  one  polyp,  though  the 
biggest  and  brightest-coloured  of  his  species,  off"  the  grow- 
ing reef,  and  exclaiming  over  him, "  See  this  weak  and  puny 


46    'y  ANALOGIES   BETWEEN   LINGUISTIC   SCIENCE         [lECT. 

creature !  how  is  it  possible  that  he  and  his  like  should 
build  up  a  reef  or  an  island?"  No  one  ever  set  himself 
deliberately  at  work  to  invent  or  improve  language — or  did 
so,  at  least,  with  any  valuable  and  abiding  result;  the  work 
is  all  accomplisbed  by  a  continual  satisfaction  of  the  need  of 
the  moment,  by  ever  yielding  to  an  impulse  and  grasping 
a  possibility  which  the  already  acquired  treasure  of  words 
and  forms,  and  the  habit  of  their  use,  suggest  and  put 
within  reach.  In  this  sense  is  language  a  growth  ;  it  is  not 
consciously  fabricated  ;  it  increases  by  a  constant  and  im- 
plicit adaptation  to  the  expanding  necessities  and  capacities 
of  men. 

This,  again,  is  what  is  meant  by  the  phrases  "  organic 
growth,  organic  development,"  as  applied  to  language.  A 
language,  like  an  organic  body,  is  no  mere  aggregate  of 
similar  particles ;  jit  is  a  complex  of  related  and  mutually 
helpful  parts.  As  such  a  body  increases  by  the  accretion  of 
matter  having"  a  structure  homogeneous  with  its  own,  as  its 
already  existing  organs  form  the  new  addition,  and  form  it 
for  a  determinate  purpose — to  aid  the  general  life,  to  help 
the  performance  of  the  natural  functions,  of  the  organized 
being — so  is  it  also  with  language  :  its  new  stores  are  form- 
ed from,  or  assimilated  to,  its  previous  substance  ;  it  enriches 
itself  with  the  evolutions  of  its  own  internal  processes,  and 
in  order  more  fully  to  secure  the  end  of  its  being,  the  ex- 
pression of  the  thought  of  those  to  Avhom  it  belongs.  Its 
rise,  development,  decline,  and  extinction  are  like  the  birth, 
increase,  decay,  and  death  of  a  living  creature. 

There  is  a  yet  closer  parallelism  between  the  life  of  lan- 
guage and  that  of  the  animal  kingdom  in  general.  The 
speech  of  each  person  is,  as  it  were,  an  individual  of  a  species, 
with  its  general  inherited  conformity  to  the  specific  type,  but 
also  with  its  individual  peculiarities,  its  tendency  to  variation 
and  the  formation  of  a  new  species.  The  dialects,  langunges, 
groups,  families,  stocks,  set  up  by  the  linguistic  student, 
correspond  with  the  varieties,  species,  genera,  and  so  on,  of 
the  zoologist.  And  the  questions  which  the  students  of 
nature  are  so  excitedly  discussing  at  the  present  day — the 
nature  of  specific  distinctions,  the  derivation  of  spec'es  by 


II.]  AND  THE    PHYSICAL   SCIENCES.  47 

indhidual  variation  and  natural  selection,  tlie  unity  of  origin 
of  animal  life — all  are  closely  akin  with  those  which  the 
linguistic  student  has  constant  occasion  to  treat.  "We  need, 
not  here  dwell  further  upon  the  comparison  :  it  is  so  natur- 
ally suggested,  and  so  fruitful  of  interesting  and  instructive 
analogies,  that  it  has  been  repeatedly  drawn  out  and 
employed,  by  students  both  of  nature  and  of  language.* 

Once  more,  a  notev/orthy  and  often-remarked  similarity 
exists  between  the  facts  and  methods  of  geology  and  those 
of  linguistic  study.  The  science  of  language  is,  as  it  were, 
the  geology  of  the  most  modern  period,  the  Age  of  Man, 
having  for  its  task  to  construct  the  history  of  development 
of  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants  from  the  time  when  the 
proper  geological  record  remains  silent ;  when  man,  no  longer 
a  mere  animal,  begins  by  the  aid  of  language  to  bear  witness 
respecting  his  own  progress  and  that  of  the  world  about  him. 
The  remains  of  ancient  speech  are  like  strata  deposited  in 
bygone  ages,  telling  of  the  forms  of  life  then  existing,  and  of 
the  circumstances  which  determined  or  aifected  them  ;  while 
words  are  as  rolled  pebbles,  relics  of  yet  more  ancient  form- 
ations, or  as  fossils,  whose  grade  indicates  the  progress  of 
organic  life,  and  whose  resemblances  and  relations  show  the 
correspondence  or  sequence  of  the  different  strata  ;  while, 
everywhere,  extensive  denudation  has  marred  the  completeness 
of  the  record,  and  rendered  impossible  a  detailed  exhibition 
of  the  whole  course  of  development. 

Other  analogies,  hardly  less  striking  than  these,  might 
doubtless  be  found  by  a  mind  curious  of  such  things.  Yet 
they  would  be,  like  these,  analogies  merely,  instructive  as 
illustrations,  but  becoming  fruitful  of  error  when,  letting  our 
fancy  run  away  with  our  reason,  we  allow  them  to  determine 
our  fundamental  views  respecting  the  nature  of  language 
and  the  method  of  its  study  ;  when  we  call  language  a  living 

*  For  instance,  by  Lyell  (Antiquity  of  Man,  chapter  xxiii.),  Avhohas  founded 
upon  it  a  lucid  and  able  analogical  argument  bearing  on  the  Darwinian 
theory  of  the  mutation  of  species.  Professor  August  Schleicher  (Die  Darwin- 
sche  Theorie  uud  die  Sprachwissenschaft,  Weimar.  1863)  attempts  absolutely 
to  prove  by  its  aid  the  truth  of  the  Darwinian  theory,  overlooking  the  fac; 
that  the  rejatioa  between  the  two  classes  of  phenomeiia  is  one  of  analogy 
only,  not  of  essential  agreement. 


48  THE    STUDY    OF    LANGUAGE  [lF.CT. 

and  growing  organism,  or  pronounce  linguistics  a  physical 
science,  because  zoology  and  geology  are  sUch.  The  point 
is  one  of  essential  consequence  in  linguistic  philosophy.  We 
shall  never  gain  a  clear  apprehension  of  the  phenomena  of 
linguistic  history,  either  in  their  individuality  or  in  their  to- 
tality, if  we  mistake  the  nature  of  the  forces  which  are  active 
in  producing  them.  Language  is,  in  fact,  an  institution— 
the  word  may  seem  an  awkward  one,  but  we  can  find  none 
better  or  more  truly  descriptive — the  work  of  those  whose 
wants  it  subserves  ;  it  is  in  their  sole  keeping  and  control ; 
it  has  been  by  them  adapted  to  their  circumstances  and  wants, 
and  is  still  everywhere  undergoing  at  their  hands  such  adapta- 
tion ;  every  separate  item  of  which  it  is  composed  is,  in  its  pre- 
sent form — for  we  are  not  yet  ready  for  a  discussion  of  the 
ultimate  oriL!:in  of  human  speech — the  product  of  a  series  of 
changes,  effected  by  the  will  and  consent  of  men,  working 
themselves  out  undeT  historical  conditions,  and  conditions  of 
man's  nature,  and  by  the  impulse  of  motives,  which  are,  in 
the  main,  distinctly  ti*:iC8able,  and  form  a  legitimate  subject 
of  scientific  investig;if:ion. 

These  considerations  determine  the  character  of  the  study 
of  language  as  a  historical  or  moral  science.  It  is  a  branch 
of  the  history  of  the  human  race  and  of  human  institutions. 
It  calls  for  aid  upon  various  other  sciences,  both  moral  and 
physical:  upon  mental  and  metaphysical  philosophy,  for  an 
account  of  the  associations  which  underlie  the  developmen.ts 
of  signification,  and  of  the  laws  of  thought,  the  universal 
principles  of  relation,  which  fix  the  outlines  of  grammar  ; 
upon  physiology,  for  explanation  of  the  structure  and  mode 
of  operation  of  the  organs  of  speech,  and  the  physical  rela- 
tions of  articulate  sounds,  which  determine  the  laws  of 
euphony,  and  prescribe  the  methods  of  phonetic  change ; 
upon  physical  geography  and  meteorology,  even,  for  informa- 
tion respecting  material  conditions  and  climatic  aspects, 
which  have  exerted  their  influence  upon  linguistic  growth. 
But  the  huuKin  mind,  seeking  and  choosing  expression  for 
human  thought,  stanils  as  middle  term  between  all  determin- 
ing causes  and  their  results  in  the  development  of  language. 
It  is  only  a^i  they  aHect  man  himself,  iu  hia  desires  and  tend- 


n.]  IftJ   A   HISTORICAL    SCIENCE.  49 

encies  or  in  his  capacities,  tliat  they  can  affect  speech  :  the 
immediate  agent  is  the  will  of  men,  working  under  the  joint 
direction  of  impelling  wants,  governiDg  circumstances,  and 
established  habits.  AMiat  makes  a  physical  science  is  that 
it  deals  with  material  substances,  acted  on  by  material  forces. 
In  the  formation  of  geological  strata,  the  ultimate  cognizable 
agencies  are  the  laws  of  matter ;  the  substance  affected  is 
tangible  matter  ;  the  product  is  inert,  insensible  matter.  In 
zoology,  again,  as  in  anatomy  and  physiology,  the  investigator 
has  to  do  with  material  structures,  w^hose  formation  is  de- 
pendent on  laws  implanted  in  matter  itself,  and  beyond  the 
reach  of  voluntary  action.  In  language,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  ultimate  agencies  are  intelligent  beings,  the  material  is — • 
not  articulated  sound  alone,  which  might,  in  a  certain  sense, 
be  regarded  as  a  physical  product,  but — sound  made  signifi- 
cant of  thought ;  and  the  product  is  of  the  same  kind,  a  sys- 
tem of  sounds  with  intelligible  content,  expressive  of  the 
slowly  accumulated  wealth  of  the  human  race  in  wisdom, 
experience,  comprehension  of  itself  and  of  the  rest  of  cre- 
ation. "What  but  an  analogical  resemblance  can  there 
possibly  be  between  the  studies  of  things  so  essentially  dis- 
similar ? 

There  is  a  school  of  modern  philosophers  who  are  trying 
to  materialize  all  science,  to  eliminate  the  distinction  between 
the  physical  and  the  intellectual  and  moral,  to  declare  for 
^naught  the  free  action  of  the  human  will,  and  to  resolve  the 
whole  story  of  the  fates  of  mankind  into  a  series  of  purely 
material  effects,  produced  by  assignable  physical  causes,  and 
explainable  in  the  past,  or  determinable  for  the  future,  by 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  those  causes,  by  a  recognition  of 
the  action  of  compulsory  motives  upon  the  passively  obf^dient 
nature  of  man.  AVith  such,  language  will  naturally  pass, 
along  with  the  rest,  for  a  physical  product,  and  its  study  for 
a  phj^sical  science  ;  and,  however  we  may  dissent  from  their 
general  classification,  we  cannot  quarrel  with  its  application 
in  this  particular  instance.  But  by  those  who  still  hold  to 
the  grand  distinction  of  moral  and  physical  sciences,  w^ho 
think  the  action  of  intelligent  beings,  weighing  motives  and 
selecting  courses  of  conduct,  seeing  ends  and  seeking  meana 


50  ABSENCE    OF    REFLECTION    AND    INTENTION  [lKCT. 

to  their  attainment,  to  be  fundamentally  and  essentially 
diflerent  from  that  of  atoms  moved  by  gravity ,*^lieiriieal 
affinity,  and  tlie  other  immutable  forces  of  nature,  as  vre  call 
them — by  such,  the  study  of  language,  whose  dependence 
upon  voluntary  action  is  so  absolute  that  not  one  word  ever 
was  or  ever"  will  be  uttered  without  the  distinct  exertion  of 
the  human  will,  cannot  but  be  regarded  as  a  moral  science  ; 
its  real  relationship  is  with  those  branches  of  human  know- 
ledge among  which  common  opinion  is  accust;^omed  to  rank 
it — with  mental  philosophy,  with  philology,  with  history. 

While,  however,  we  are  thus  forced  to  the  acknowledgment 
that  everything  in  human  speech  is  a  product  of  the  con- 
scious action  of  human  beings,  we  should  be  leaving  out  of 
sight  a  matter  of  essential  consequence  in  linguistic  investi- 
gation if  we  failed  to  notice  that  what  the  linguistic  student 
seeks  in  language  is  not  what  men  have  voluntarily  or  inten- 
tionally placed  there.  As  we  have  already  seen,  each  separ- 
ate item  in  the  production  or  modification  of  language  is  a 
satisfaction  of  the  need  of  the  moment ;  it  is  prompted 
by  the  exigencies  of  the  particular  case;  it  is  brought  forth 
for  the  practical  end  of  convenient  communication,  and  with 
no  ulterior  aim  or  object  whatsoever ;  it  is  accepted  by  the 
community  only  because  it  supplies  a  perceived  want,  and 
answers  an  acknowledged  purpose  in  the  uses  of  social 
intercourse.  The  language-makers  are  quite  heedless  of  its 
position  and  value  as  pai't  of  a  system,  or  as  a  record  with 
historical  content,  nor  do  they  analyze  and  set  before  their 
consciousness  the  mental  tendencies  which  it  gratifies.  A 
Language  is,  in  very  truth,  a  grand  system,  of  a  highly  com- 
plicated and  symmetrical  structure  ;  it  is  filly  comparable 
v.ith  an  organized  body;  but  this  is  not  because  any  human 
mind  has  planned  such  a  structure  and  skilfully  worked  it 
out.  Each  single  part  is  conscious  and  intentional ;  the 
whole  is  instinctive  and  natural.  The  unity  and  symmetry 
of  the  system  is  the  unconscious  product  of  the  eflurts  of  the 
human  mind,  grappling  with  the  facts  of  the  world  without 
and  the  world  within  itself,  and  recording  each  separate 
result  in  speech.  Herein  is  a  real  laui^uage  fundamentally 
different  from  the   elaborate  and   philosophical  structures 


11.]  ipS    THE    FACTS    OF    LANGUAGE.  51 


t 


,  with  which  ingenious  men  have  sometimes  thought  to  replace 
them.*  These  are  indeed  artful  devices,  in  which  tlie  cha- 
racter and  bearing  of  ea8h  .part  is  painfully  weighe  *  and 
determined  in  advance:  compared  with  Ijiem,  language  is  a 
real  growth;  and  human  thought  will"  as  readily  exchange 
its  natural  covering  for  one  of  them  as  the  growing  crusta- 
cean will  give  up  its  shell  for  a  casing  of  silver,  wrought  ^ 
tlie  moift  skilful  hands.  Their  symmetry  is  that  of  a  mathe- 
matical figure,  carefully  laid  out,  and  drawn  to  rule  and  line  ; 
in  language,  the  human  mind,  tethered  by  its  limited  capaci- 
ties in  the  midst  of  creation,  reaches  out  as  far  as  it  can  in 
every  direction  and  makes  its  mark,  and  is  surprised  at 
the  end  to  find  the  result  a  circle. 

In  whatever  aspeojt  the  general  facts  of  language  are 
viewed,  they  exhibit  the  same  absence  of  reflection  and 
intention.  Phonetic  change  is  the  spontaneous  working 
out  of  tendencies  which  the  individual  does  not  acknowledge 
to  himself,  in  their  effects  upon  organs  of  whose  structure 
and  workings  he  is  almost  or  wholly  ignorant.  Outward 
circumstances,  historioal  conditions,  progress  of  knowledge 
and  culture,  are  recorded  in  speech  because  its  practical 
uses  require  that  they  should  be  so,  not  because  any  one  has 
attempted  to  depict  them.  Language  shows  ethnic  descent, 
not  as  men  have  chosen  to  preserve  such  evidence  of  their 
kindred  with  other^communities  and  races,  but  as  it  cannot 
be  elTaced  without  special  effort  directed  to  that  end.  The 
operations  of  the  mind,  the  development  of  association,  the 
laws  of  subjective  relation,  are  exhibited  there,  but  only 
as  they  are  the  agencies  which  govern  the  phenomena  of 
speech,  unrecognized  in  their  working,  but  inferrible  from 
their  effects. 

Now  it  is  this  absence  of  reflection  and  conscious  intent 
which  takes  away  from  the  facts  of  language  the  subjective 
character  that  would  otherwise  belong  to  them  as  products 
of  voluntary  action.  The  linguistic  student  feels  that  he  is 
not  dealing  with  the  artful  creations  of  individuals.      So  far 

*  Foi'  an  account  of  some  of  these  attempts  at  an  artificial  language, 
of  theoretically  perfect  structure,  and  designed  for  universal  use,  see  Professoi 
Hax  Miiller's  Lectui-es  on  Language,  second  series,  second  lecture. 

4* 


52  WHY   LINGUISTIC    SCIENCE    HAS    BEEN  [lECT. 

as  concerns  the  purposes  for  which  he  examines  them,  and 
the  results  he  -would  derive  from  them,  they  are  almost 
as  little  the  \vork  of  man  as  is  the  form  of  his  skull,  the  out- 
lines of  his  face,  the  construction  of  his  arm  and  hand. 
They  are  fairly  to  be  regarded  as  reflections  of  the  facts  of 
human  nature  and  human  history,  in  a  mirror  imperfect,  in- 
deed, but  faithful  and  wholly  trustworthy  ;  not  as  pictures 
drawn  by  men's  hands  for  our  iuformation.  Hence  the 
close  analogies  which  may  be  drawn  between  the  study  of  lan- 
guage and  some  of  the  physical  sciences.  Hence,  above  all, 
the  fundamental  and  pervading  correspondence  between  its 
whole  method  and  theirs.  'Not  less  than  they,  it  founds 
itself  upon  the  widest  observation  and  examination  of  par- 
ticular facts,  and  proceeds  toward  its  results  by  strict  induc- 
tion, comparing,  arranging,  and  classifying,  tracing  out  rela- 
tions, exhibiting  an  inherent  system,  deducing  laws  of 
general  or  universal  application,  discovering  beneath  all 
the  variety  and  diversity  of  particulars  an  ever-present 
unity,  in  origin  and  development,  in  plan  and  purpose. 
Beyond  all  question,  it  is  this  coincidieuce  of  method  which 
has  confused  some  of  the  votaries  of  linguistic  science,  and 
blinded  their  eyes  to  the  true  nature  of  the  ultimate  facts 
upon  which  their  study  is  founded,  leading  them  to  deny  the 
agency  of  man  in  the  production  and  change  of  language, 
and  to  pronounce  it  an  organic  growth,  governed  by  organic 
forces. 

Another  motive — a  loss  important  one,  and  in  great  part, 
doubtless,  unconscious  in  its  action  —  impelling  certain 
students  of  language  to  claim  for  their  favourite  branch  of 
investigation  a  place  in  the  sisterhood  of  physical  sciences, 
has  been,  as  1  cannot  but  think,  an  a})prehension  lest  other- 
wise they  should  be  unable  to  prove  it  entitled  to  the  rank 
of  a  science  at  all.  There  is  a  growing  disposition  on  the 
part  of  the  devotees  of  physical  studies — a  class  greatly  aiul 
rapidly  increasing  in  importance  and  influence — to  restrict 
the  honourable  title  of  science  to  tliose  departments  of 
knowledge  which  are  founded  on  the  unvarying  laws  of 
material  nature,  and  to  deny  the  possibility  of  scientific 
method  and   scientific   results  where  the  main  element  of 


II.]  EEGARDED   AS    A   PHYSICAL   SCIENCE.  53 

actiou  is  the  yarying  and  capricious  will  of  man.      Tlie  con- 
sideratioiis  adduced   above,  it   is   hoped,  will    remove   this 
apprehension.      Nor  was  it  ever  otherwise  than  needless,  as 
the  tendency  which  called   it  forth   is   mistaken   and    un- 
justifiable.    The  name  "  science  "  admits  no  such  limitation. 
The  vastness   of  a  field  of  study,  the   unity   in  variety  of 
the  facts  it  includes,  their  connection  by  such  ties  that  they 
allow  of  strict  classification  and  ofi*er  fruitful  ground  for  de- 
duction, and  the   value   of  the  results   attained,  the   truth 
deduced — these  things  make  a  science.       And,  in  all  these 
respects,  the  study  of  language  need  fear  a  comparison  with 
no  one  of  the  physical  sciences.       Its  field  is  the  speech  of 
all  mankind,  cultivated  or  savage  ;  the  thousands  of  existing 
dialects,  with  all  their  recorded  predecessors  ;    the  countless 
multitudes  of  details  furnished  by  these,  each  significant  of  a 
fact  in  human  history,  external  or  internal.     The  w^ealth  of 
languages  is  like  the  wealth  of  species  in  the  whole  animal 
kingdom.       Their  tie  of  connection  is  the  unity  of  human 
nature  in  its  wants  and  capacities,  the  unity  of  human  know- 
ledge, of  existing  things  and  tiieir  relations,  to  be  appre- 
hended  by  the   mind   and  reflected   in   speech — a  bond  as 
infinite  in  its  ramifications  among  all  the  varieties  of  human 
language,  and   as  powerful  in  its  binding  force,  as  is  the 
unity  of  plan   in  vegetable   or    animal    life.     The    results, 
finally,  for  human  history,  the  history  of  mind,  of  civiliza- 
tion, of  connection  of  races,  for  the  comprehension  of  man, 
in  his   high   endowments   and   in   his  use  of  them,    are  of 
surpassing  interest.     To  compare  their  worth  with  that  of 
the  results  derivable  from  other  sciences  were  to  no  good 
purpose :    all   truth   is  valuable,   arid   that    which    pertains 
to  the  nature  and  history  of  man  himself  is,  to  say  the  least, 
not  inferior  in  interest  to  that  which  concerns  his  surround- 
ings.     Linguistic    science,  then,   has    in  itself   enough    of 
dignity  and  true  scientific  character  not  to  need  to  borrow 
aught   of   either   from    association    with    other   branches  of 
inquiry,  which  difi'cr  from  it  in  subject  and  scope,  while  yet 
they  seek  by  corresponding  methods  the  same  ultimate  object, 
the  im^rease  of  knowledge,  and  the  advancement  of  man  in 
comprehension  of  himself  and  of  the  universe. 


54  GENERAL    METHOD  [lECT. 

We  r^.turn,  now,  from  this  necessary  digression,  to  follow 
onwjird  our  leading  inquiry,  "Why  we  speak  as  v>'e.do?" 
And  we  have  to  push  the  question  a  step  further  than  in  the 
last  lecture,  asking  this  time,  not  simply  how  we  ourselves 
came  into  possession  of  the  signs  of  which  our  mother- 
tongue  is  made  up,  but  also  how  those  from  whom  we 
learned  them  came  into  possession  of  them  before  us  ;  how 
the  tradition  from  whose  hands  we  implicitly  accepted  them 
got  tlicm  in  the  form  in  which  it  passed  them  on  to  us ; 
why  our  words,  in  short,  are  what  they  are,  and  not  other- 
wise. We  have  seen  that  every  part  and  particle  of  every 
existing  language  is  a  historical  product,  the  final  result  of  a 
series  of  changes,  working  themselves  out  in  time,  under 
the  pressure  of  circumstances,  and  by  the  guidance  of 
motives,  which  are  not  beyond  the  reach  of  our  discovery. 
This  fact  prescribes  the  mode  in  which  language  is  to  be 
fruitfully  studied.  If  we  would  understand  anything  which 
has  become  what  it  is,  a  knowledge  of  its  present  constitu- 
tion is  not  enough  :  we  must  follow  it  backward  from  stage 
to  stage,  tracing  out  the  phar^cs  it  has  assumed,  and  the 
causes  which  have  determined  the  transition  of  one  into  the 
other.  Merely  to  classify,  arrange,  and  set  forth  in  order 
the  phenomena  of  a  spoken  tongue,  its  significant  material, 
usages  and  modes  of  expression,  is  grammar  and  lexicography, 
not  linguistic  science.  The  former  state  and  prescribe  only  ; 
the  latter  seeks  to  explain.  And  when  the  explanation  is 
historical,  the  search  for  it  must  be  of  tlie  same  character. 
To  construct,  then,  by  historical  processes,  with  the  aid  of 
all  the  historical  evidences  witliln  his  reach,  the  history  of 
development  of  language,  back  to  its  very  beginning,  is  the 
main  task  of  the  linguistic  student ;  it  is  the  means  by 
which  he  arrives  at  a  true  comprehension  of  language,  in  its 
own  nature  ajul  in  its  relations  to  the  human  mind  and 
to  human  liistory. 

^Furthermore,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  the 
history  of  language  reposes  on  that  of  words.  Language  is 
made  up  of  signs  for  tliought,  which,  though  in  one  sense 
parts  of  a  whole,  are  in  another  and  more  essential  sense 
isolated  and  independent  entities.     Each  is  produced  for  ita 


^.]  or    LINGUISTIC    STUDY.  55 

own  purpose  ;  eacli  is  separately  exposed  to  the  clianges  and 
vicissitudes  of  linguistic  life,  is  modified,  recombined,  or 
dropped,  according  to  its  own  uses  and  capacities.  Hence 
etymology,  the  historical  study  of  in  dividual  words,  is  the 
foundation  and  substructure  of  all  investigation  of  language  ; 
the  broad  principles,  the  wide-reaching  views,  the  truths  of 
universal  application  and  importance,  which  constitute  the 
upper  fabric  of  linguistic  science,  all  rest  upon  word-genealo- 
gies, AVords  are  the  single  witnesses  from  whom  etymology 
draws  out  the  testimony  which  they  have  to  give  respecting 
themselves,  the  tongue  to  which  they  belong,  and  all  human 
speech. 

How  the  study  of  words  is  made  the  means  of  bringing 
to  light  the  j)rocesses  of  linguistic  growth,  and  what  those 
processes  are,  it  will,  accordingly,  be  our  next  duty  to  ex- 
amine and  set  forth  by  suitable  examples.  Having  only 
illustration  in  view,  we  will  avoid  all  cases  of  a  diificult  or 
doubtful  character,  noticing  only  words  whose  history  is 
well  known ;  choosing,  moreover,  those  which,  while  they 
truly  exhibit  the  principles  we  seek  to  establish,  are  at  the 
same  time  of  the  simplest  kind,  and  most  open  to  general 
comprehension. 

There  is  no  word  or  class  of  words  whose  history  does 
not  exemplify,  more  or  less  fully,  all  the  different  kinds  of 
linguistic  change.  It  will  be  more  convenient  for  us,  how- 
ever, to  take  up  these  kinds  in  succession,  and  to  select  our 
instances  accordingly.  And,  as  the  possibility  of  etj^mo- 
logical  analysis  depends  in  no  small  part  on  the  nature  of 
words  as  not  simple  entities,  but  made  up  of  separate  ele- 
ments, this  composite  character  of  the  constituents  of  speech 
may  properly  engage  our  first  attention. 

That  we  are  in  the  constant  habit  of  putting  together  two 
independent  vocables  to  form  a  compound  word,  is  an  ob- 
vious and  familiar  fiict.  Instances  of  such  words  are  fearrin- 
sj)iri}itj,  god-like,  hr^ak-necJc,  house-top.  They  are  substitutes 
for  the  equivalent  phrases  inspiring  fear,  like  a  god,  apt  to 
hreah  one's  neck,  top  of  a  liouse.  For  the  sake  of  more  com- 
pact and  convenient  expression,  we  have  given  a  closer 
unitj  to  the  compound  word  than  belongs  to  the  aggregate 


66  COMPOUNDED    WORDS.  [lECT 

which  it  represents,  by  omission  of  coniicctives,  by  inversion 
of  the  more  usual  order  of  arran^^einent,  but  most  of  all  by 
unity  of  acceut :    this  last  is  t!ie  chief  outward  means   of 
composition  ;    it    converts    two    entities   into  one,   for   the 
nonce,  by  subordinating  the  one  of  them  to  the  other.     Our 
common  talk  is  strewn  witli  such  words,  and  so  gradual  is 
the  transition  to  them  from  the  mere  collocations    of  the 
phrase,   that    there    are    couples,   like   mother -tongue^    well- 
Icnown,  which  we  hardly  know  whether  to  write    separately, 
as  collocations  only,  or  with  a  hyphen,  as  loose  conipoiuids  ; 
others,  like  dial-plate,  ivell-hcing,  usage  so  far  recognizes  for 
compounds  that  they  are  always  written  together,  sometimes 
witli  the  hyphen  and  sometimes  without  ;  others  yet,  like 
godlike,  herself,  are  so  grown  together  by  long  coutact,  by 
habitual  connection,  that  we  hardly  think  of  them  as  having 
a  dual  nature.     And  even  more  than  this  :  we  have  formed 
some  so  close  combinations  that  it  costs  us  a  little  reflection 
to   separate   them   into    their    original    parts.     Of   such  .a 
character  {^forehead,  still  written  to  accord  with  its  deriva- 
tion, as  a  name  for  the  fore  part  of  the  head,  but  so  altered 
in  pronunciation  that,  but  for  its  spelling,  its  origin  would 
certainly  escape  the  notice  of  nineteen-twentieths  of  those 
who  use  it.      Such,  again,  is  fortnight,  altered  both  in  pro- 
nunciation and   in  spelling  from  the  fourteen  nights  out   of 
which  it  grew.      Such,  once  more,  is  our  familiar  verb  hrealc- 
fast.     We  gave  this  name  to  our  morning  meal,  because   it 
hroJce,  or  interrupted,  the  longest yj/67^  of  the  day,  that  which 
includes  the  night's  sleep.      We  said  at  first  breakfast — "  I 
broke  fast  at  such  an  hour  this  morning  :"  he,  or  they,  who 
first  ventured  to  say  I  Irra/ifasted  were  guilty  of  as  heinoiis 
a  violation  of  gi'ammatical  rule  as  he  would  be  who  yhould 
now  declare  I  takedinnered,  instead  of  I  took  dinner;  but 
good  usage  came  over  to  their  side  and  ratified  their  blunder, 
because  the  community  Avere  minded  to  give  a  specific  name 
to  their  earliest  meal  and  to  the  act  of  partaking  of  it,  and 
therefore  converted  tlie  collocation  Ireakfdst  into   the   real 
compoinid  hrrakfist. 

Yet  once  niore,  not  only  are  tho>e  words  in  oiu*  language 
of  composite  structure,  of  which  tft  fir»t  sight,  or  on  seeomi 


II.]  COMPOUNDED    WORDS.  57 

thought,  we  thus  recognize  the  constituent  elements;  not  a 
few,  also,  which  we  shoLild  not  readily  conjecture  to  be  other 
than  simple  and  indivisible  entities,  and  which  could  not  be 
proved  otherwise  bv  any  evidence  which  our  present  speech 
contains,  do  nevertheless,  when  we  trace  their  history  by  the 
aid  of  other  and  older  languages  than  ours,  admit  of  analysis 
into  component  parts.  We  v/ill  note,  as  instances,  only  a 
familiar  word  or  two,  namely  such  and  tvliich.  The  forms  of 
these  words  in  Anglo-Saxon  are  sicijJc  and  liu'i/Ic  :  with  the  lat- 
ter of  them  the  Scottish  tvldlk  for  wliich  quite  closely  agrees, 
and  they  also  find  their  near  correspondents  in  the  German 
soldi  and  ivelch.  On  following  up  their  genealogy,  from  lan- 
guage to  language  of  our  family,  we  find  at  last  that  they 
are  made  up  of  the  ancient  words  for  so  and  iclio,  with  the 
adjective  like  added  to  each  :  such  is  so-like,  '  of  that  likeness 
or  sort ;'  lohich  is  who-like,  '  of  what  likeness  or  sort.' 

But  we  turn  from  compounds  like  these,  in  which  two 
originally  independent  words  are  fully  fused  into  one,  in 
meaning  and  form,  to  another  class,  of  much  higher  import- 
ance in  the  history  of  lano:uage. 

Let  us  look,  first,  at  our  word  Jearful.  Tliis,  upon  reflec- 
tion, is  a  not  less  evident  compound  than  fear-ins2nring  : 
our  common  adjective  full  is  perfectly  recognizable  as  its 
final  member.  Yet,  though  such  be  its  palpable  origin,  it 
is,  after  all,  a  compound  of  a  somewhat  different  character 
from  the  other.  The  subordinate  element//^//,  owing  to  its 
use  in  a  similar  way  in  a  great  number  of  other  compounds, 
Buch  as  careful,  truthful,  plentiful,  dutiful,  and  the  frequent 
and  familiar  occurrence  of  the  words  it  forms,  has,  to  our 
apprehension,  in  some  measure  lost  the  consciousness  of  its 
independent  character,  and  sunk  to  the  condition  of  a  mere 
suffix,  forming  adjectives  from  nouns,  like  the  suffix  ous  in 
such  words  as  perilous,  riotous,  plenteous,  duteous.  It  ap- 
proaches, too,  the  character  of  a  suffix,  in  that  its  compounds 
are  not,  \\ke  fear-inspiring  and  house-top,  directly  translatable 
back  into  the  elements  which  for)n  them  :  plentiful  and  duti- 
ful do  not  mean  '  full  of  plenty '  and  '  full  of  duty,'  but  are 
the  precise  equivalents  of  plenteous  and  duteous.  We  could 
with,  entire  propriety  form  an  adjective  from  a  new  noun  by 


58  DERIVATION    OF    AFFIXES  [LECT. 

adding /?;/  to  it,  without  eonconiing  ourselves  as  to  A\hether 
the  con-e.-^pouding  phrase,  "  full  of  so  and  so,"  Avould  or  \vould 
not  make  good  sense.  And  when  we  hear  a  Scotchman  say 
fearfu\  curefu\  we  both  understand  him  without  difficulty, 
and  do  not  think  of  inquiring  whether  he  also  clips  the  ad- 
jective/«//  to  fu\ 

The  word  of  opposite  \T[e?inmQ,  fearless,  is  not  less  readily 
recognizable  as  a  compound,  and  our  first  impulse  is  to  see 
in  its  final  element  our  common  Avord  less,  to  interpret ytr/r- 
less  as  meaning  '■minus  fear,'  'deprived  of  fear,'  and  so  '  ex- 
empt from  fear,'  A  little  study  of  the  history'  of  such  words, 
however,  as  it  is  to  be  reail  in  other  dialects,  shows  us  tliat 
this  is  a  mistake,  and  that  our  less  has  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  the  compound.  The  Ang'o-vSaxon  form  of  the  end- 
ing, leas,  is  palpably  the  adjective  leas,  which  is  the  same 
with  our  word  loose;  nud  J'ea7'less  is  primarily  '  loose  from 
fear,'  '  free  from  fear.'  The  original  subordinate  member  of 
the  compound  has  here  gone  completely  through  the  process 
of  conversion  into  a  suffix,  being  so  divorced  from  the  words 
which  are  really  akin  with  it  that  its  derivation  is  greatly 
obscured,  and  a  false  etymology  is  suggested  to  the  mind 
which  reflects  upon  it. 

Take,  auain,  such  words  as  godh/,  liomely,  hrofherlt/,  lovely. 
Here,  as  in  the  other  cases,  each  is  composed  of  tAvo  parts  ; 
but,  while  we  recognize  the  one  as  a  noun,  having  an  iiule- 
pendent  existence  in  the  language,  we  do  not  even  feel 
tempted  to  regard  the  other  as  anything  but  an  adjective 
suffix,  destitute  of  separate  significance  ;  it  appears  in  our 
usage  only  as  an  appendage  to  other  words,  impressing  upon 
them  a  certain  modification  of  meaning.  What,  however,  is 
its  history?  Upon  tracing  it  up  into  the  older  form  of  our 
speech,  the  Anglo-Saxon,  we  find  that  our  modern  usage  lias 
mutilated  it  after  the  same  fashion  as  the  Scottish  dialect 
now  mutilates  the  fill  of  feaiful — by  dropping  ofl',  namely, 
an  original  final  consonant:  its  earlier  form  was  lie.  The 
final  guttural  letter  wo  find  ]U'eserved  even  to  the  present 
day  in  the  corresponding  suflixes  of  the  other  Germanic 
langiinges,  as  in  tlie  German  lieJi,  Swedish  Z/y,  Dutch  lijk. 
These  facts  lead  us  naturally  to  the   ?onjecture  that  the  so« 


II.]  FROM    INDEPENDENT   WORDS.  50 

calU'd  suffix  may  be  notliiug  more  than  a  metamorpTiosis  of 
our  common  adjective  like ;  and  a  reference  to  the  oldest 
Germanic  dialect,  the  Moeso-Grothic,  puts  the  case  be^^ond 
all  question  ;  for  there  T\e  find  the  suffix  and  the   independ- 
ent adjective  to  be  in  all  respects  the  same,  and  the  deriva,- 
tives  formed  with  the  suffix  to  be  as  evident  compounds  with 
the  adjective  as  are  our  ov\^n  godlike,  childlike,  and  so  on. 
"Words    thus    composed    are    common   in  all  the  Grermanic 
tongues ;  but  we  who  speak  English  have  given  the  same 
suffix  a  further  modification  of  meaning,  and  an  extension  of 
application,  which  belong  to  it  nowhere  else.     In  our  usage 
it  is  an  adverbial  suffix,  by  wdiich  any  adjective  whatever 
maj^be  converted  into  an  adverb,  as  in  truly,  hadly ,  fearfully ^ 
fearlessly.     In  the  old  Anglo-Saxon,  such  adverbs  were  ob- 
lique  cases   of  adjectives   in   lie,   and   so,   of   course,   were 
derived  only  from  adjectives  formed  by  this  ending ;  the  full 
adverbial  suffix  was  lice,  the  e  being  a  case-termination  :  in- 
stances are  dnlice,  '  only,  singularly,'  from  dnlic,  '  sole,  sin- 
gular,' literally  '  one-like  ; '    leojlice,  '  lovelily,'  from    leojlicj 
'  lovely.'     We  moderns,  now,  have  sufi'ered  the  ending  to  go 
out  of  use  as  one  forming  adjectives,  only  retaining  the  ad- 
jectives so  formed  which  we  have  inherited  from  the  ancient 
time  ;  but  we  have  taken  it  up  in  its  adverbial  application, 
and,  ignoriug    both   its  original    character    and   its    former 
limitation  to  a  single  class  of  adjectives,  apply  it  with  un- 
restricted freedom  in  making  an  adverb  from  any  adjective 
we  choose ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  we  have  mutilated  its 
form,  casting  off   as  unnecessary  the    vowel  ending,  along 
with  the  consonant  to  which  it  was  appended.      The  history 
of  this  adverbial  suffix  is  worthy  of  special  notice,  inasmuch. 
as  the  suffix  itself  is  the  latest  addition  which  our  grammati- 
cal system   has    gained  in  the    synthetic    way,  and    as    its 
elaboration   has  taken  place  during   the    period    when  the 
growth    of   our    language    is    illustrated    by    contemporary 
documents.     The   successive  steps  were  clearly  as  follows: 
the  adjective  like   was   first  added  to   a  number  of  nouns, 
forming  a  considerable  class  of   adjective  compounds,    like 
those  now  formed  by  us  viith.  full ;  then,  like  the  latter  word, 
it  lost  in  a  measure  the  consciousness  of  its  origin,  and  wasf 


00  DERIVATION    OF    AFFIXES  [LSl'T. 

regarded  ratlier  as  a  siiiBx,  formiDg  derivativt  adjectives : 
one  of  the  oblique  cases  of  these  adjectives  was  next  often 
employed  in  an  adverbial  sense  ;  and  the  use  of  the  suffix  in 
its  extended  form  and  with  its  modified  application  grew  iu 
importance  and  frequency,  until  linally  it  threw  quite  into 
the  shade  and  supplanted  the  adjective  use — and  the  inde- 
pendent adjective  had  become  a  mere  adverbial  ending. 
The  mutilation  of  its  fonn  went  hand  in  hand  with  thia 
obliviousness  of  its  origin  and  with  its  transferral  to  a  new 
cffice  ;  each  helped  on  the  other.    • 

Another  Grermauic  suffix,  ship,  as  in  friendship,  worship^ 
lordship,  is  distinctly  traceable  to  its  origin  in  the  independ- 
ent word  shape  ;  and  its  transition  of  meaning,  from  '  fojm  * 
to  '  aspect,  condition,  status,  rank,'  though  perhaps  less  ob- 
vious than  those  which  we  have  already  noted,  is  evidently 
a  natural  and  easy  one. 

A  case  of  somewhat  greater  difficulty  is  presented  na  in 
such  forms  as  I  loved.  Here  the  final  d  is,  as  we  say,  the 
sign  of  the  preterit  tense,  added  to  the  root  love  in  order  to 
adapt  it  to  the  expression  of  past  time ;  and,  from  tiie  evi- 
dence presented  in  our  own  language,  no  suspicion  of  ita 
derivation  from  an  independent  word  would  ever  cross  our 
minds.  Nor  does  the  Anglo-Saxon,  nor  any  other  of  the 
Grermanic  dialects  of  the  same  period,  cast  any  light  upon 
its  origin.  Since,  however,  such  a  sign  of  past  time  is  one 
of  the  distinctive  features  of  the  Grermanic  group  of  lan- 
guages, and  is  found  nowhere  else  in  the  greater  family  to 
which  these  belong,  we  cannot  help  assuming  that  it  has 
grown  up  in  them  since  their  separation  from  the  rest  of  the 
family :  just  as  the  adverbial  suffix  li/,  which  is  peculiar  to 
our  own  tongue,  has  grown  up  in  it  since  its  separation 
from  the  other  Germanic  tongues.  It  is  therefore  a  form 
of  comparatively  modern  introduction,  and  we  might  hope 
to  trace  out  its  genesis.  This  is,  in  fact,  disclosed  to  us  by 
the  ]\Ia?so-Gl-othic,  the  most  ancient  Grermanic  dialect,  which 
stands  toward  the  rest  in  somewhat  the  same  relation  as  the 
Anglo-Saxon  to  the  English  ;  in  its  primitive  and  uncor- 
ruptcd  forms  we  see  clearly  that  the  preterits  in  question 
arc  made  by  appending  to  the  root  of  the  verb  the  past 


n-J  FROM    INDEPENDENT    WORDS.  61 

tense  of  another  verb,  namely  did,  from  to  do.  IVe  tamed  ia 
in  Maeso-Grotbic  tamidedum,  which  means  not  less  evidently 
tame-did-wG  than  the  Anglo-Saxon  sotliUce,  '  sootbly,  trulv,' 
means  '  in  a  sooth-like  (truth-like)  way.'  I  loved  is,  then, 
originally  /  love  did,  that  is,  /  did  lo-ce — as,  unconsciously 
repeating  in  another  way  the  same  old  act  of  composition, 
we  now  almost  as  often  say.  The  history  of  the  suffix  baa 
been  quite  like  that  of  tbe  ly  of  truly,  save  tbat  it  bappeued 
longer  ago,  and  is  therefore  more  difficult  to  read. 

All  our  illustrations  hitherto  baye  been  taken  from  tbe 
Germanic  part  of  our  language,  and  tbey  baye  all  been  forms 
wbicb  are  peculiar  to  tbe  Grermanic  dialects,  and  whicb  we 
baye  tberefore,  as  already  remarked,  every  reason  to  believe 
of  later  date  than  tbe  separation  of  tbat  group  of  dialects 
from  tbe  other  tongues  witb  wbicb  it  stands  related.  Yet, 
with  tbe  exception  of  tbe  adverbial  application  of  the  suffix 
ly,  they  are  all  anterior  to  tbe  time  at  whicb  we  first  make 
acquaintance  with  any  Germanic  tongue  in  contemporary 
records.  Our  confidence  in  tbe  reality  of  our  etymological 
analysis,  and  in  tbe  justness  of  the  inferences  drawn  from  it, 
is  not  on  tbat  account  any  the  less  :  we  feel  as  sure  tbat  the 
words  in  question  were  made  by  putting  togetber  tbe  two 
parta  into  wbicb  eacb  is  still  resolvable  as  if  tbe  whole  pro- 
cess of  composition  bad  gone  on  under  our  own  observation. 
If  this  were  not  so,  if  our  conclusions  respecting  tbe  growtb 
of  language  were  to  be  limited  by  tbe  possession  of  strict 
documentary  evidence,  our  researcbes  in  linguistic  bistory 
would  be  stopped  almost  at  the  outset.  Few  languages 
have  any  considerable  portion  of  their  development  illus- 
trated by  contemporary  records  ;  literature  is  wont,  at  the 
best,  to  cast  light  upon  certain  distinct  epochs  in  tbe  his- 
tory of  a  dialect,  leaving  in  obscurity  tbe  intervening  periods  ; 
nor  do  we  ever,  by  sucb  belp,  reach  a  point  at  all  nearly 
approacbing  tbat  of  tbe  actual  origin  of  speecb.  Hence  the 
necessity  resting;  upon  tbe  etymologist  of  interrogating  the 
material  of  language  itself,  of  making  words  yield  up,  on 
examination,  their  own  history.  He  applies  tbe  analogy  of 
processes  of  cbange  and  development  whicb  are  actually 
going  on  iu  language  to  explain  tbe  earlier  results  of  tjho 


62  DERIVATION    OF    AFFIXES  [lECT. 

same  or  like  processes.  And,  if  he  work  with  due  caution 
and  logical  strictness,  his  results  are  no  more  exposed  to 
question  than  are  those  of  the  geologist,  who  infers,  from 
the  remains  of,  animal  and  vegetable  organisms  in  deeplv- 
buried  rocks,  the  deposition  of  those  rocks  in  a  period  when 
animal  and  vegetable  life,  analogous  with  that  of  our  own 
day,  was  abundant. 

If,  now,  we  turn  our  attention  to  other  portions  of  our 
English  speech,  to  those  which  come  to  us  from  the  Latin, 
or  which  are  of  an  ancient  and  primitive  growth,  we  note 
tlie  same  condition  of  things  as  prevailing  there  also.  The 
subject  admits  of  the  most  abundant  and  varied  illustration, 
but  we  must  limit  ourselves  to  but  an  instance  or  two. 

In  the  series  of  multiplicative  numerals,  double,  triple, 
quadniple,  quintuple,  and  so  on,  we  have  a  suffix  ^j/*?,  which 
is  the  principal  indicator  of  the  grammatical  quality  of  the 
words.  On  following  them  up  into  the  Latin,  whence  we 
derive  them,  we  find  this  brief  ending  to  be  a  mutilated 
remnant  of  the  syllable  plic,  which  is  a  well-known  root, 
meaning  '  to  bend,  to  fold.'  Douhle  is  thus  by  origin  diqilic, 
by  abbreviation  from  duo-plic,  and  is,  in  sense,  the  precise 
Latin  equivalent  of  our  Germanic  word  two-fold.  AVe  still 
retain  the  fuller  form  in  duplicate,  the  learned  synonym  of 
douhle. 

Again,  one  of  the  oldest  words  in  our  familiar  speech  is  am, 
the  iirst  person  of  the  verb  to  be,  nor  do  we  see  in  it  any  signs 
of  being  otherwise  than  simple  and  indivisible.  As,  how- 
evei",  we  trace  its  history  of  changes  backward,  from  one  to 
another  of  the  languages  with  which  our  own  claims  kindred, 
we  are  enabled  to  discover  that  its  two  sounds  are  the  scanty 
relics  of  two  separate  elements  :  the  first,  a,  is  all  that  re- 
mains of  an  original  syllable  as,  which  exjiressed  the  idea  of 
existence  ;  the  other,  m,  represents  an  ending,  mi,  which, 
originally  a  pronoun,  and  having  tlie  same  meaning  as  the 
same  word,  ;/'.".  still  lias  with  us,  was  employed  to  limit  the 
ptHMlicale  of  existence  to  the  person  speaking  :  it  was,  in 
fact,  the  sullix  univei'sally  employed,  during  the  earliest 
])erio(l  in  llit-  history  of  oiii-  family  of  languages,  to  form  the 
Jirst  persons  singular  ol  verbs.      Am,  then,  really  contains  a 


II.]  FROM    INDEPENDENT   WORDS.  63 

verb  and  its  subject  pronoun,  and  means  '  be-I ;'  that  is,  '  I 
exist.'  The  third  person  of  the  same  verb,  is,  possesses 
virtually  a  similar  character,  although  linguistic  usage,  in  ita 
caprice,  has  dealt  somewhat  dilferently  with  it.  As  am 
stands  for  as-mi,  '  be-I,'  so  is  stands  for  as-ti,  '  be-that : '  we 
have,  indeed,  worn  off  the  second  element  altogether,  so  that 
our  is  is  the  actual  representative  only  of  the  radical  sylla- 
ble as;  but  by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  Grermanic  dia- 
lects, and  of  the  other  descendants  from  the  primitive 
tongue  in  which  was  first  formed  the  compound  asti,  have 
retained  at  least  the  initial  consonant  of  the  pronominal 
suffix :  witness  the  Grerman  isf,  the  Slavonian  i/est,  the  Latin 
est,  the  Grreek  and  Lithuanian  esti,  the  Sanscrit  asH,  and  so 
on.  It  is  the  same  t  which,  in  the  form  of  th  or  s,  still  does 
service  in  the  regular  scheme  of  conjugation  of  our  verbs,  as 
ending  of  the  third  person  singular  present :  thus,  he  loveth 
or  loves. 

The  examples  already  given  may  sufficiently  answer  our 
purpose  as  illustrations  of  the  way  in  which  suffixes  are  pro- 
duced, and  grammatical  classes  or  categories  of  words  created. 
The  adjectives  in  ful,  or  the  adjectives  in  less,  form  together 
a  related  group,  having  a  common  character,  as  derivatives 
from  nouns,  and  derivatives  possessing  a  kindred  significance, 
standing  in  a  certain  like  relation  to  their  primitives,  filling 
a  certain  common  office  in  speech,  an  office  of  which  the  sign 
is  the  syllable  y^^Z,  or  less,  their  final  member  or  suffix.  With 
Zy,  this  is  still  more  notably  the  case  :  the  suffix  Zy  is  the 
usual  sign  of  adverbial  meaning ;  it  makes  much  the  largest 
share  of  all  the  adverbs  we  have.  A  final  m,  added  to  a 
verbal  root,  in  an  early  stage  of  the  history  of  our  mother- 
tongue,  and  yet  more  anciently  an  added  syllable  mi,  made 
in  like  manner  the  first  persons  singular  present  of  verbs  ; 
as  an  added  s,  standing  for  an  original  syllable  ti,  does  even 
to  the  present  day  make  our  third  persons  singular.  All 
these  grammatical  signs  were  once  independent  eien;ents, 
words  of  distinct  meaning,  appended  to  other  words  and  com- 
pounded with  them — appended,  not  in  one  or  two  isolated 
cases  only,  but  so  often,  and  in  a  sense  so  generally  appli- 
cable, that  they  formed  whole  classes  of  compounds.     There 


64  ACCUMULATION    OF    AFFIXES.  [LECT 

■was  notliing  about  them  save  this  extensibility  of  their  appli- 
cation and  frequency  of  their  use  to  distinguish  their  com- 
pounds from  such  as  liouse-iop,  hreak-neck,  forehead,  fortniyht, 
and  the  others  of  the  same  class  to  which  we  have  already 
referred.  Yet  this  was  quite  enough  to  bring  about  a  change 
of  their  recognized  character,  from  that  of  distinct  words  to 
that  of  non-significant  ap)pendages  to  other  wor>'s.  Each 
passed  over  into  the  condition  of  ^formative  element ;  that 
is  to  say,  an  element  show*ing  the  logical  lorm,  the  gram- 
matical character,  of  a  derivative,  as  distinguished  from  its 
primitive,  the  word  to  which  the  sign  was  appended.  There 
was  a  time  when  fear-fuU,  feor-loose,  fenr-free,  free-makiny, 
fear-struck,  love-like,  love-rich,  love-sick,  love-lorn,  were  all 
words  of  the  same  kind,  mere  lax  combinations ;  it  was  only 
their  different  degree  of  availability  for  answering  the  ends 
of  speech,  for  supplying  the  perceived  needs  of  expression, 
that  caused  two  or  three  of  them  to  assume  a  different  cha- 
racter, while  the  rest  remained  as  they  had  been. 

Often,  as  every  one  knows,  there  is  an  accumulation  of 
formative  elements  in  the  same  word.  In  truthfully,  for  ex- 
ample, we  have  the  adverbial  suffix  ly  added  to  the  primitive 
truthful;  in  which,  again,  the  adjective  suffix /wZ  has  per- 
formed the  same  office  toward  the  remoter  primitive  truth. 
By  the  use  of  a  formative  element  of  another  kind,  a  prefix, 
we  might  have  made  the  yet  more  intricate  compound  un- 
truthfully. Nay,  further,  truth  itself  contains  a  suffix,  and  is 
a  derivative  from  the  adjective  true,  as  appears  from  its 
analogy  with  ivealtli  from  icell,  width  from  loide,  strenyth  from 
strony,  and  many  other  like  words  ;  and  even  true,  did  we 
trace  its  history  to  the  beginning,  we  should  find  ending  in 
a  formative  element,  and  deriving  its  origin  from  a  verbal 
root  meaning  '  to  be  firm,  strong,  reliable.'  The  Latin  part 
of  our  language,  which  includes  most  of  our  many-syllabled 
words,  oilers  abundant  instances  of  a  similar  complicated 
structure.  Thus,  the  term  inapplicabilities  contains  two 
prefixes,  the  negative  in  and  the  pieposition  r/</ which  nH\ans 
'  to,'  ami  three  suffixes,  able,  forming  adjectives,  ty,  forming 
abstract  nouns  fiom  adjectives,  and  s,  the  plural  ending,  all 
clustered  about  the  verbal  root  ^>//V,  Avhich  we  have  already 


ri.]  ALL   OUR    WORDS    ORIGINALLY   COSirOUND.  C5 

seen  itself  forming  a  suffix,  in  double,  triple,  aiul  so  fortli,  ard 
which  conveys  the  idea  of  '  bending  '  or  '  foklijjg.'  By  suc- 
cessive extensions  and  modifications  of  meaning,  by  transferidl 
from  one  category  to  another  through  means  of  their  appro- 
j)riate  signs,  we  have  developed  this  simple  idea  into  a  form 
which  can  only  be  represented  by  the  long  paraphrase 
'  numerous  conditions  of  being  not  able  to  bend  (or  lit)  to 
something.' 

With  but  few  exceptions — which,  moreover,  are  only  ap- 
parent ones — all  the  words  of  our  language  admit  of  such 
analysis  as  this,  which  discovers  in  them  at  least  two 
elements,  whereof  the  one  conveys  the  central  or  fundamental 
idea,  and  the  other  indicates  a  restriction,  application,  or 
relation  of  that  idea.  Even  those  brief  vocables  which 
appear  to  us  of  simplest  character  can  be  proved  either  to 
exhibit  still,  like  am  for  <75-w/,  the  relic  of  a  mutilated  forma- 
tive element,  or,  like  is  for  as-ti,  to  have  lost  one  which 
they  formerly  possessed.  This,  then,  in  our  language  (as  in 
the  whole  family  of  languages  to  which  ours  is  related),  is 
tlie  normal  constitution  of  a  word  :  it  invariably  contains  a 
radical  and  a  formal  portion  ;  it  is  made  up  of  a  root  combined 
with  a  sufFix,  or  with  a  suffix  and  prefix,  or  with  more  than 
one  of  each.  In  more  technical  phrase,  no  word  is  unformed; 
no  one  has  been  a  mere  significant  entity,  without  designa- 
tion of  its  relation,  vrithout  a  sign  putting  it  in  some  class 
or  categoiy. 

It  is  plain,  therefore,  th.at  a  chief  portion  of  linguistic 
analysis  must  consist,  not  in  the  mere  dismembering  of  such 
words  as  we  usually  style  compounded,  but  in  the  distinction 
from  one  another  of  radical  and  formal  elements ;  in  the 
isolation  of  the  central  nucleus,  or  root,  from  the  affixes 
which  have  become  attached  to  it,  and  the  separate  recogni- 
tion of  each  affix,  in  its  indiA'idual  form  and  office.  B'lt  our 
illustrations  have,  as  I  think,  made  it  not  less  plain  tliat 
there  is  no  essential  and  ultimate  difierence  in  the  tv/o  cases  : 
in  the  one,  as  in  the  other,  our  process  of  analysis  is  the  re- 
tracing of  a  previous  synthesis,  whereby  two  independent 
elements  were  combined  and  integrated.  That  this  is  so  to 
a  certain  extent  is  a  truth  so  palpable  as  to  admit  of  neither 

6 


60  ALL    FORMATIVE    ELEMENTS  [lECT. 

denial  nor  doubt.  Had  there  been  in  the  German'c  Inn- 
^•iiai;vs  no  such  adjective  as/'ull,  no  such  derivative  adjectives 
asfcaifulajid  trutJtful  would  have  grown  up  in  them  ;  if  they 
had  possessed  no  adjective  like,  they  would  never  have  gained 
such  adj(ctives  ^-s,  godly  and  lovely,  nor  such  adverbs  Vi&  fear- 
fully aud  truly.  So  also  with  frienchliip,  with  loved,  with 
am  and  is,  and  the  rest.  No  inconsiderable  number  of  the 
formative  elements  of  our  tongue,  iu  every  department  of 
grammar  and  of  word-formation,  can  be  thus  traced  back  to 
independent  words,  with  which  they  w^ere  at  first  identical, 
out  of  which  they  have  grown.  It  is  true,  at  the  same  time, 
that  a  still  larger  number  do  not  allow  their  origin  to  be 
discovered.  But  w^e  have  not,  on  that  account,  the  right  to 
conclude  that  their  history  is  not  of  the  same  character.  In 
grammar,  as  everywhere  else,  like  eftects  presuppose  like 
causes.  We  have  seen  how  the  formative  elements  are 
liable  to  become  corrupted  and  altered,  so  thpvt  the  signs  of 
their  origin  are  obscured,  and  may  even  be  obliterated.  The 
full  in  truthful  is  easy  enough  to  recognize,  but  a  little  his- 
torical research  is  necessary  in  order  to  show  us  the  like 
Tfshich  is  contained  in  truly.  Hateful  is,  for  aught  we  know% 
as  old  a  compound  as  lovely,  but  linguistic  usage  has  chanced 
to  be  more  merciful  to  the  evidence  of  descent  in  the  former 
ease  than  in  the  latter.  A  yet  more  penetrating  investiga- 
tion is  r(H[uired  ere  w^e  discover  our  pronoun  we  in  th^  word 
am,  or  our  imperfect  did  in  I  loved ;  and,  but  for  the  happy 
chance  that  preserved  to  us  the  one  or  two  fragmentary 
manuscripts  in  which  are  contained  our  only  records  of 
Moeso-Gothic  speech,  the  genesis  of  the  latter  form  w^ould 
always  have  remained  an  unsolved  problem,  a  subject  for  in- 
genious conjecture,  but  beyond  the  reach  of  demonstration. 
The  loss  of  each  intermediate  stage,  coming  between  any 
given  di.-ilect  and  its  remotest  ancestor,  wipes  out  a  portion 
of  the  evidence  which  would  explain  the  origin  of  its  forms. 
If  Knglisli  stood  all  alone  among  tiie  other  languages  of  the 
eai'th,  but  an  insignificant  part  of  its  word-history  could  be 
read  ;  its  kindi'ed  dialects,  contcm[)oi-:iry  and  older,  help  us 
to  the  discovery  of  a  much  larger  portion  ;  and  the  preserva* 
tiou  oK  authentic  records  of  every  period  of  its   life  would, 


II.]  ORIGINALLY    IXDEPEXDEXT    WOllDS.  G7 

as  we  cannot  hesitate  to  believe,  make  clear  the  rest.  There 
is  no  break  in  the  chain  of  analogical  reasoning  which  com- 
pels the  linguistic  student  to  the  conviction  that  his  analyses 
are  everywhere  real,  and  distinguish  those  elements  bv  the 
actual  combination  of  which  words  were  originally  made  up. 
On  this  conviction  rests,  for  him,  the  value  of  his  analytical 
processes  :  if  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  in  part  historical 
and  real,  in  part  only  theoretical  and  illusory,  his  researches 
into  the  history  of  language  are  baffled  ;  he  is  in  pursuit  of 
a  phantom,  and  not  of  truth. 

Wherever,  then,  our  study  of  words  brings  us  to  the  re- 
cognition of  an  element  having  a  distinct  meaning-  and  office, 
employed  in  combination  with  otiier  elements  for  the  uses  of 
expression,  there  we  mast  recognize  an  originally  independ- 
ent entity.  The  parts  of  our  words  were  once  themselves 
words. 

Some  of  the  remoter  consequences  involved  in  this  prin- 
ciple will  engage  our  attention  at  a  more  advanced  stage  of 
our  inquiries  into  the  history  of  human  speech  :  our  present 
purpose  only  requires  us  to  notice  that,  since  all  known 
words  have  been  constructed  by  putting  together  previously 
existing  items  of  speech,  the  combination  of  old  materials 
into  new  forms,  the  making  of  compounds,  with  frequent  ac- 
companying reduction  of  one  of  their  members  to  a  merely 
formal  significance,  is  a  very  prominent  part  of  the  mechan- 
ism of  language,  one  of  the  most  fundamental  and  important 
of  the  processes  by  which  are  carried  on  its  perpetual 
growth  and  change,  its  organic  development.  "What  other 
processes  are  *he  concomitants  and  auxiliaries  of  this  one, 
we  shall  go  or  to  inquire  in  the  next  lecture. 


LECTURE  III. 


Phonetic  change;  its  ground,  action  on  compound  words,  part  in  word' 
making,  and  destructive  effects.  Replacement  of  one  mode  of  formal 
distinction  by  another.  Extension  of  analogies.  Abolition  of  vahiable 
distinctions.  Conversion  of  soiuuls  into  one  another.  I'hvsical  dia- 
racters  of  alphabetic  sounds;  physical  scheme  of  the  English  alphabet. 
Obsolescence  and  loss  of  words.  Changes  of  meaning:  their  ground 
and  methods.  Variety  of  meanings  of  one  word.  Synonyms. 
Conversion  of  physical  into  spiritual  meaning.  Attenuation  of  mean- 
ing; production  of  form-words.  Variety  of  derivatives  from  one 
root.  Unreilectiveness  of  the  process  o/"^  making  names  and  forms. 
Conceptions  antedate  their  names.  Reason  of  a  name  historical,  and 
founded  in  convenience,  not  necessity.  Insignificance  of  derivation 
in  practical  use  of  language. 


It  ^vill  be  our  present  task  to  contiiuie  the  examination 
and  illustration  of  the  processes  of  linguistic  growth  which 
we  began  at  our  last  interview.  We  completed  at  that  time 
our  preliminary  inquiries  into  the  mode  of  preservation  and 
transmission  of  language,  and  were  guided  by  them  to  a 
recognition  of  the  true  natui-e  of  tlie  ibrce  which  alone  is 
efficient  in  all  the  operations  of  linguistic  life — the  events, 
as  we  may  more  properly  style  them,  of  linguistic  history.  It 
was  found  to  be  the  will  of  men  :  every  word  that  exists, 
exists  only  as  it  is  uttered  or  written  by  the  voluntary  eflbrt 
of  human  organs  ;  it  is  changed  only  by  an  acli(Ui  ])nH-ec(ling 
fi"om  individuals,  and  ratified  by  the  general  consent  of  s])eak- 
ers  and  writers.  Langunge,  then,  is  n(>ilher  an  organism 
nor  a  ])hysical  product  ;  :uh1  its  study  is  not  a  })l>ysical  but 
a  moral  t-c  ieiu'c.  a  branch  of  the  history  of  the  human  race 
and  of  human  institutions.     The  method  of  its  investigation 


III.]  PHOIfETIC    CORRUPTION.  G9 

is  liislcrical,  an  endeavour  to  trace  backward — even  to  tlia 
beginning,  if  tlie  recorded  evidence  permit — tlie  processes 
by  which  our  own  speech,  or  human  speech  in  general,  has 
become  what  it  is,  and  to  discover  the  rationale  of  those  pro- 
cesses, the  influences  under  which  they  have  been  carried 
on,  and  the  ends  which  they  have  been  intended  to  subserve. 
We  took  up  first,  accordingly,  the  process  of  combination 
of  old  material  in  language  into  new  forms,  and  exhibited  its 
universal  agency  in  the  production  of  the  present  constitu- 
ents of  speech.  JSTot  only  are  words  put  together  to  form 
what  to  our  sense  are  and  still  remain  ordinary  compounds, 
but  such  compounds  are  further  fused  into  a  deceitful  like- 
ness to  simple  vocables ;  or,  what  is  of  yet  more  frequent 
occurrence  and  more  important  bearing,  one  of  their  mem- 
bers sinks  to  a  subordinate  position,  and  becomes  a  suffix, 
without  recognized  separate  signification.  This,  it  was 
claimed,  is  the  way  in  which  all  formative  elements,  all  signs 
of  grammatical  categories,  have  originated  ;  and  as  every 
word  in  our  language  either  contains,  or  has  contained  and 
been  deprived  of,  a  formative  element,  or  more  than  one,  the 
process  of  composition  is  one  whose  range  and  importance 
in  linguistic  history  cannot  easily  be  over-estimated. 

But  the  same  examples  on  which  we  relied  to  show  how, 
and  how^  extensively,  words  are  compounded  together  and 
forms  produced,  have  showm  us  not  less  clearly  that  mutila- 
tion and  loss  of  the  elements  employed  by  language,  and  of 
the  compounds  and  forms  into  which  they  enter,  are  also 
constant  accom])animents  of  linguistic  grow^th.  "  All  that 
is  born  must  die  "  seems  a  law  almost  as  inexorable  in  the 
domain  of  speech  as  in  that  of  organic  life.  We  have  next 
to  turn  our  attention  to  the  principles  underlying  this  de- 
partment of  linguistic  change,  and  to  some  of  the  modes  of 
its  action  and  tiie  effects  which  it  produces. 

And  the  first  and  most  important  principle  whicli  we 
have  to  notice,  the  one  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  nearly 
all  phonetic  change  in  language,  is  the  tendency,  already 
alluded  to  and  briefly  illustrated  in  our  first  lecture,  to  make 
the  w^ork  of  utterance  easier  to  the  speaker,  to  put  a  more 
facile  in  the  st^ad  of  a  more  difficult  sound  or  combination 


70  PHONETIC    CHANGE  [lECT. 

of  souuds,  and  to  get  rid  altogether  of  what  is  unnecessary 
iu  the  words  we  use.  All  articulate  sounds  are  produced  by 
effort,  by  expenditure  of  muscular  energy,  iu  the  iungs, 
throat,  and  mouth.  This  effort,  like  every  other  which  man 
makes,  he  has  an  instinctive  disposition  to  seek  relief  from, 
to  avoid  :  we  may  call  it  laziness,  or  we  may  call  it  economy  ; 
it  is,  in  fact,  either  the  one  or  the  other,  according  to  the 
circumstances  of  each  separate  case :  it  is  laziness  when  it 
gives  up  more  than  it  gains ;  economy,  when  it  gains  more 
than  it  abandons.  Every  item  of  language  is  subject  to  its 
influence,  and  it  works  itself  out'  in  greatly  various  ways  ; 
we  will  give  our  first  consideration  to  the  manner  in  which 
its  action  accompanies,  aids,  and  modifies  that  of  the  process 
of  composition  of  old  material  into  new  forms,  as  last  set 
forth.  Por  it  is  composition,  tlie  building  up  of  words  out 
of  elements  formerly  independent,  that  opens  a  wide  field 
to  the  operation  of  phonetic  change,  and  at  the  same  time 
gives  it  its  highest  importance  as  an  agency  iu  the  produc- 
tion and  modification  of  language.  If  all  words  were  of 
simple  structure  and  brief  form,  their  alterations  would  be 
confined  within  comparatively  narrow  limits,  and  would  be 
of  inferior  consequence  as  constituting  one  of  the  processes 
of  linguistic  growth.  Our  adjective  like,  for  example,  is  but 
slightly  altered  in  our  usage  from  the  form  wliich  it  had  in 
the  Anglo-Saxon  (lie)  and  the  Ma'so-Gothic  (leik)  ;  while, 
in  the  compounds  into  which  it  has  entered,  it  is  mutilated 
even  past  recognition;  in  the  adjectives  and  adverbs  like 
godly  and  truly,  it  has  been  deprived  of  its  final  consonant ; 
in  such  and  which  (A.-S.  sirylc,  hwylc;  M.-Gr.  sicaleih,  hicaleik)^ 
it  has  -saved  only  the  final  consonant,  and  that  in  a  greatly 
modified  shape.  Our  preterit  did  is,  indeed,  but  a  remnant 
of  its  older  self,  but  iu  love-d  it  has  reached  a  much  lower 
sta<;e  of  re  .uction. 

The   reason   which  makes  phonetic  change  rifest  in  lin-  f 
guistic  combinations  is  the  same  with  that  which  creates  the  ; 
])()ssibility  of  any  phonetic  change  at  all  in  language.      It  is  ',* 
iiihercnt  in  the  nature  of  a  word,  and  its   relation   to   tho 
idea  which  it  represents.     A  word,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
\'6  not  the  natural  reflection  of  an  idea,  nor  its  description, 


III.]  IN    COMPOUND    WORDS.  71 

nor  its   definition  ;  it   is  onlj  its   de^sigDation,  an   arbitrary 
and  conventioiiai  sign  with  wliicli  we  learn   to   as;sociate  it. 
Hence  it  has  no  internal  force  couservative  of  its  identity, 
hut  is  exposed  to  all  the   changes  which   external  circum- 
stances,  the   needs   of  practical  use,  the    convenience  and 
caprice  of  those   who  employ  it,  may   suggest.      When  we 
have  once  formed  a   compound,  aud  appli<id  it  to   a  given 
purpose,  we  are  not  at  all  solicitous  to  keep  up  the  memory 
of  its  origiii ;  we  are,  rather,  ready  to  forget  it.     The  word 
once  coiued,  we  accept  it  as  an  integral  representative   of 
the  conception  to  which  we  attach   it,  and  give  our  whole 
attention  to  that,  not  concerniug  ourselves  about  its  deriva- 
tion, or  its  etymological  aptness.      Practical  convenience  be- 
comes the  paramount  consideration,  to  which  every  other  is 
made  to  give  way.    Let  us  look  at  an  example  or  tv^'o.    There 
is  a  certain  class  of  insects,  the  most  brilliant  and  beautiful 
which  the  entomologist  knows.      Its  most  common  species, 
both  in  the  Old  world  and  the  jSTew,  are  of  a  yellow  colour ; 
clouds  of  these  yellow  flutterers,  at  certain  seasons,  swarm 
upon  the  roads  and  fill  the  air.     Because,  now,  butter  is  or 
ought  to  be   yellow,   our  simple   and  unromantic  ancestors 
called  the  insect  in  question  the  butferjit/,  as  they  called  a  cer- 
tain familiar  yellow  flower  the  huttercup.      In  our  usage,  tins 
word  has  become  the  name,  not  of  tlie  yellow  species  only, 
but  of  the  whole  class.     Andj  though  its  foiui  is  nnmutilated, 
and  its  composition  as  clear  as  on  the  day  when  the  words 
were  first  put  together  to  make  it,  probpibly  not  one  person 
in  a  hundred  of  those  who  employ  it  has  ever  thought  of  its 
origin,  or  considered  why  it  was  applied  to  the  use  in  which 
it  serves  him.     We  no  longer  invest  it  with  the  paltry  and 
prosaic  associations  which,  from  its  derivation,  would  naturally 
cluster  about  it ;  it  has  become,  from  long  alliance  in  our 
thoughts  with  the  elegant  creatures  which  it  designates,  in- 
stinct with  poetic  beauty  and  grace. 

Again,  some  ancient  navigator,  vrho  discovered  a  certain 
huge  island  on  the  north-eastern  coast  of  Anierica,  had  not 
ingenuity  enough  to  devise  a  better  appellation  for  it  than 
tJie  new-found  land.  Such  a  name  was  evideutlv  no  more 
applicable  to  this  than  to  auy  other  of  the  newly-discovered 


72  OBLIVION    OF    DERIVATION.  [LECT, 

regions  in  that  ago  of  discovery,  yet  men  Icarne i  hj  degrees 
to  employ  it  as  the  proper  title  of  tliis  particular  isiland. 
At  first,  doubtless,  they  pronounced  it  distinctly,  new-found 
land  ;  but  no  sooner  had  the  words  fully  acquired  the  charac- 
ter of  a  specific  name  for  a  single  thing,  than  they  began  to 
receive  the  stamp  of  formal  unity,  by  the  accentuation  of  one 
of  the  three  syllables,  and  the  subordination  of  the  rest,  in 
quantity  and  disti'.ictness  of  tone.  There  was,  to  be  sure,  a 
difficnliy  about  deciding  which  of  three  constituents  of  so 
nearly  equal  value  should  receive  the  principal  stress  of 
voice,  and  our  practice  varies  even  now  between  Neivfound' 
Z««^and  Newfoundland,  while  we  occasionally  even  hear  Keio- 
foundldnd :  but  good  usage  will  finally  decide  in  favour  of 
one  of  these  modes,  and  will  reject  the  others.  How  little 
is  the  primary  meaning  of  the  compound  present  to  tlio 
minds  of  those  who  utter  it !  And  when,  transferring  the 
name  of  the  island  to  one  of  its  most  noted  products,  we 
speak  of  some  one  as  "  the  fortunate  owner  of  a  fine  New- 
foundland," how  little  we  realize  that,  in  terms,  we  are  as- 
serting his  lordship  over  a  recently  discovered  territory ! 

The  two  words  which  we  have  instanced  have  suffered  no 
modification,  or  only  a  very  slight  one,  of  their  original  form 
since  they  were  put  together  out  of  separate  elements.  But  it 
is  clear  enough  that  tliis  readiness  to  forget  the  etymologi- 
cal meaning  of  a  word  in  favour  of  its  derivative  application, 
to  sink  its  native  condition  in  its  official  ch.aracter,  prepares 
the  way  for  mutilation  and  mutation.  AVe  have  put  toge- 
ther, to  form  the  title  of  a  certain  petty  naval  officer,  the 
two  words  hoaf  and  swain,  and  we  know  what  the  word 
means,  and  wliy  :  the  sailors,  too,  know  what,  but  the  why 
is  a  n^.atter  of  indifference  to  them  ;  they  have  no  leisure  for 
a  full  pronunciation  of  such  cumbrous  compounds  as  boat- 
swdiii;  they  cut  it  down  to  hoa'n  ;  and  it  is  a  chance  if  a 
single  one  among  them  who  has  not  learned  to  read  and 
write  can  tell  you  how  he  of  the  whistle  comes  by  such  a  title. 
So  also,  the  mariner  calls  1o'(/aVntsls  what  we  land-lubbera 
V\\K)\\  by  till'  more  (>tymologically  correct,  but  more  lumber- 
ing, nauie  o^  loju/allanttiaihs.  And  these  are  but  typical  ex- 
uai;  le.s  of  whiU    has  been  the  history  of  language  from  the 


Hi]     VALUABLE  ACTION  OF  PHONETIC  CORRUPTION.     73 

beginning.  ITo  sooner  have  men  coined  a  weird  than  ihej 
havo  begun — not,  of  course,  with  deliberate  forethought, 
but  spontaneously,  and  as  it  were  unconsciously — to  see 
/  ho^  the  time  and  labour  expended  in  its  utterance  could  be 
economized,  how  any  complicated  and  difficult  combination 
of  sounds  which  it  presented  could  be  worked  over  into  a 
sliape  better  adapted  for  fluent  utterance,  how  it  could  be 
contracted  into  a  briefer  form,  what  part  of  it  could  be 
soared  without  loss  of  intellisfibility. 

Thus — to  recur  to  some  of  our  former  illustrations — as 
soon  as  we  are  ready  to  forego  our  separate  memory  of  the 
constituents  of  such  compounds  as  hredh-fdst^fdre-liead^four' 
teen-night,  that  we  m.ay  give  a  more  concentrated  attention  to 
the  unity  of  signification  which  we  confer  upon  them,  we  be- 
gin to  convert  them  into  hn'aJcfast^fi^re'd^fortmt.  And  the 
ease  is  the  same  with  all  those  combinations  out  of  which  grow 
formative  elements  and  forms.  "WTiile  we  have  clearly  in  mind 
the  genesis  of  god-like,  father-like,  and  so  forth,  we  are  little 
likely  to  mutilate  either  part  of  them :  our  apprehension  of 
the  latter  element  as  no  longer  coordinate  with  the  former, 
but  as  an  appendage  to  it,  impressing  upon  it  a  modification 
of  meaning,  and  our  reduction  of  the  subordinate  element  to 
Ig,  thus  turning  the  words  into  godJg  andfatherig,  are  pro- 
cesses that  go  hand  in  hand  together,  each  helping  the  other. 
This  brings  us  to  a  recognition  of  the  important  and  valu- 
able part  played  by  the  tendency  to  ease  of  utterance,  and 
by  the  phonetic  changes  which  it  prompts,  in  the  construc- 
I  tion  of  the  fabric  of  language.  If  a  word  is  to  be  taken 
1  fully  out  of  the  condition  of  constituent  member  of  a  com- 
pound, and  made  a  formative  element,  if  a  compound  is  thus 
to  be  converted  into  a  form,  or  otherwise  fused  together  into 
an  integral  word,  it  must  be  by  the  help  of  some  external 
modification.  Our  words  thankful,  fearful,  truthful,  and 
their  like,  are,  by  our  too  present  apprehension  of  the  inde- 
pendent significance  of  their  final  syllable,  kept  out  of  the 
category  of  pure  derivatives.  Phonetic  corruption  makes 
the  difference  between  a  genuine  form-word,  like  godlg,  and 
a  combination  like  godlike,  which  is  far  less  plastic  and 
adaot^ihje  tc  tlie  varyin.'?  needs  of  practical  xlsp  ;  it  n^.akcs  th« 


74  PHONETIC    CORRUPTION    MAKES  [lECT. 

difference  between  a  synthetic  combination,  like  I  loved,  and 
a  mere  analytic  collocation,  like  /  did  love.  It  alone  renders 
possible  true  grammatical  forms,  which  make  the  wealth  and 
power  of  every  inflective  language.  We  sometimes  laugh  at 
the  unwieldiness  of  the  compounds  which  cur  neighbour  lan- 
guage, the  German,  so  abimdantly  admits  ;  words  like  liitfer- 
(jutshesitzer,  '  knight's-propert^'-jjossessor,'  or  ScliulnnaclLer- 
handwerk,  '  cobbler's-trade,'  seem  to  ns  too  cumbrous  for  use; 
but  half  the  vocables  in  our  own  tongue  would  be  as  bulky 
and  awkward,  but  for  the  abbreviation  which  phonetic  change 
has  wrought  upon  them.  AVithout  it,  such  complicated  de- 
rivatives as  untrutlifuUy,  i)iapj)licahilities,  would  have  no 
advantage  over  the  tedious  paraphrases  with  which  wc  should 
now  render  their  precise  etymological  meaning. 

Change,  retrenchment,  mutilation,  disguise  of  derivation  is, 
then,  both  the  inevitable  and  the  desirable  accompaniment  of 
Buch  composition  as  has  formed  the  vocabulary  of  our  spoken 
tongue.  It  stands  connected  with  tendencies  of  essential 
consequence,  and  is  part  of  the  wise  economy  of  speech.  It 
contributes  to  conciseness  and  force  of  expression.  It  is  the 
Biffn  and  means  of  the  intej/ration  of  words.  It  disencum- 
bers  terms  of  traditional  remembrances,  which  would  other- 
wise disturb  the  unitj^  of  attention  that  ought  to  be  concen- 
trated upon  the  sign  in  its  relation  to  the  thing  signified.  It 
makes  of  a  word,  instead  of  a  congeries  of  independent  enti- 
ties, held  together  by  a  loose  bond  and  equally  crowdmg 
themsebes  upon  the  apprehension,  a  unit}%  composed  of  duly 
subordinated  parts. 

But  the  tendency  which  works  oub  these  valuable  results 
is,  at  the  same  time,  a  blind,  or,  to  speak  more  exactly,  an 
unreflecting  one,  and  its  action  is  also  in  no  small  measure 
destructive  ;  it  pulls  down  the  very  edifice  which  it  helps  to 
build.  Its  direct  aim  is  simply  ease  and  convenience  ;  it 
t-ceks,  as  we  have  seen,  to  save  time  and  labour  to  the  users 
of  language.  There  may  be,  it  is  evident,  waste  as  avcII  aa 
economy  in  the  gratification  of  such  a  tendency  ;  abbreviation 
may  be  carried  beyond  the  limits  of  that  which  can  be  well 
dispensed  with  ;  ease  and  convenience  may  be  consulted  by 
the  sacrifice  of  what  is  of  worth,  as  well  as  by  the  rejection. 


III.]  AND    UNMAKES    WORDS.  75 

of  what  is  unnecessary.  No  language,  indeed,  in  the 
mouths  ,f  a  people  not  undergoing  mental  and  moral  im  . 
poverislijient,  gives  up,  upon  the  whole,  any  of  its  resources 
of  expression,  lets  go  aught  of  essential  value  ibr  which  it 
does  not  retain  or  provide  an  equivalent.  But  an  item  may 
be  dropped  here  aiid  there,  which,  upon  reflection,  seems  a  ' 
regrettable  loss.  And  a  language  may,  at  least,  become 
greatly  altered  by  the  excessive  prevalence  of  the  wearing- 
out  processes,  abandoning  much  which  in  other  and  kindred 
languages  is  retained  and  valued.  It  is  the  more  necessary 
that  we  take  notice  of  the  disorganizing  and  destructive 
workings  of  this  tendency,  inasmuch  as  our  English  speech 
is,  above  all  other  cultivated  tongues  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth,  the  one  in  which  they  have  brought  about  the  most  / 
radical  and  sweeping  changes. 

It  has  already  been  remarked  (p.  62)  that,  in  the  earliest 
traceable  stage  of  growth  of  our  language,  the  first  person 
singular  of  ^ts  verbs  was  formed  by  an  ending  mi,  oTwhich 
the  m  in  am  is  a  relic,  and  the  only  one  which  we  have  left. 
In  Latin,  too,  it  remains  in  the  present  indicative  of  only 
two  words,  sum  and  inquam,  and  in  Greek,  in  the  comj^ara- 
tively  small  class  of  "  verbs  in  ml,'"  like  titliemi,  didnmi.  But 
the  history  of  verbal  conjugation  can  be  better  illustrated  by 
considering  the  changes  wrought  upon  another  set  of  endings, 
those  of  tne  plural.  At  the  same  early  period  of  its  develop- 
ment, the  tongue  from  which  ours  is  descended  had  au  ' 
elaborate  series  of  terminations  to  denote  the  first,  second, 
and  third  persons  plural  of  its  verbs.  In  the  oldest  form  in 
which  we  can  trace  them — when,  however,  they  had  already 
acquired  the  character  of  true  formative  elements — they 
were  masi,  iasi,  and  nti.  -^y  origin,  they  were  pronominal 
compounds,  which  had  "  grown  on  "  to  the  end  of  the  verbal 
root — that  is  to  say,  had  first  been  habitually  spoken  in  con- 
nection with  the  root,  then  attached  to  it,  and  finally  inte- 
grated with  it,  in  the  manner  already  illustrated  :  they 
meant  respectively,  '  I  and  thou  ',  i.e.  '  we  '  ;  'he  and  thou  ', 
i.e.  '  ye  ' ;  and  '  they  '.  Thus  lagamasi,  lagatasi,  laganti,  foi 
instance,  signified  at  first,  in  a  manner  patent  to  every 
Bpeaker's  apprehension, '  lie-we  ', '  lie-ye  ', '  lie-they ' :  it  would 


7G  DESTRUCTIVE   EFFECTS  [lEOT. 

have  seemed  as  superfluous,  in  usmg  these  forms,  to  put  tLe 
subject  pronouns  a  second  time  before  them,  as  it  would  seem 
to  us  now  to  say  /  did  loved,  for  I  loved.  But  tlie  conscious- 
ness of  tbe  origin  of  the  endings  becoming  dimmed,  and  their 
independent  meaning  lost  from  view,  they  were  left  to  under- 
go the  inevitable  process  of  reduction  to  a  simpler  form. 
As  they  appear  in  the  Latin,  they  Lave  suffered  a  first  pro- 
cess of  abbreviation,  by  rejection  of  the  final  vowel  of  each : 
they  have  become  mus,  tis,  and  ni,  as  in  legimus,  legitis,  le- 
gunt,  '  we  read,  ye  read,  they  read.'  The  ancient  Gothic, 
the  most  primitive  of  the  Germanic  dialects,  exhibits  them  in 
a  yet  succincter  form,  the  first  two  having  been  cut  down  to 
their  initial  letter  only  :  thus,  licjam,  ligitli,  ligand.  Thus  far, 
each  ending  has,  through  all  its  changes,  preserved  its  identity", 
and  is  adequate  to  its  office  ;  however  mutilated  and  corrupted 
in  form,  they  are  still  well  distinguished  fi-om  one  another, 
and  sufficiently  characteristic.  But  it  was  noAv  coming  to  be 
usual  to  put  the  pronouns  before  the  verb  in  speaking.';  At 
first  added  occasionally,  for  greater  emphasis,  they  had,  as  the 
pronominal  character  of  the  endings  faded  altogether  from 
memory,  become  customary  attendants  of  the  verb  in  all  tlie 
persons — save  as,  in  the  third  person,  theii'  place  was  taken. 
by  the  more  varied  subjects  which  that  person  admits.  Since, 
then,  the  expressed  subjects  were  of  themselves  enough  to 
indicate  the  person,  distinctive  endings  were  no  longer 
needed.  Under  the  influence  of  this  consideration,  the  An- 
glo-Saxon had  reduced  all  the  plural  terminations  to  one — at}i 
in  the  ])resent,  on  in  tlie  imperfect — saying  we  licgath,  ge  lic' 
gatli,  Id  licgath.  Although  this  last  was,  in  its  inception, 
much  such  a  blunder  as  is  now  committed  by  the  vulgar  among 
ourselves  who  say  I  is,  sags  J,  and  so  on,  it  was  adopted  and 
ratified  by  the  community,  because  it  was  only  a  cari'ving  out 
of  the  legitimate  tendency  to  neglect  and  eliminate  distinctions 
which  are  practically  unnecessary;  and  all  the  otlicr  Ger- 
manic dialects  have  done  the  same  thing,  in  whole  or  in  part. 
We,  finally,  have  carried  the  process  to  its  furthest  pos- 
Bible  limit,  by  casting  off  the  suffixes  altogether;  and  with 
them,  in  this  particular  verb,  even  the  final  consonant  of  tho 
root :  as  we  say  I  lie,  so  we  also  say  we  lie,  ge  lic,  they  lie, 


Ill,]  OP    PHONETIC    CHANGE.  77 

We  do  not  feel  tliat  we  have  fhus  sacrificed  auglit  of  that  dis- 
tinctness of  expression  whicii  should  be  aimed  at  in  language  ; 
we  lie  is  not  less  unambiguous  than  lagamasi ;  it  is,  in  fact, 
a  composition  of  equivalent  elem.ents  in  another  mode  ;  just 
as  I  did  love  is,  in  a  ditferent  form,  the  same  combination 
with  I  loved. 

In  the  declension  of  our  nouns  we  have  effected  a  more 
thorough  revolution,  if  tha.t  be  possible,  than  in  the  conjuga- 
tion of  our  verbs.  The  ancient  tongue  from  which  our  Eng- 
lish is  the  remote  descendant  inflected  its  nouns,  substantive 
and  adjective,  in  three  numbers,  each  containing  eight  cases. 
Of  the  numbers,  the  Anglo-Saxon  had  alm^ost  wholly  given 
up  one,  the  dual,  retaining  only  scanty  relics  of  it  in  the  pro- 
nouns ;  and,  of  the  cases,  it  had  in  famihar  use  but  four — the 
nominative,  genitive,  dative,  and  accusative — with  traces  of  a 
fifth,  the  instrumental.  The  dual,  indeed,  on  account  of  its 
little  practical  value,  has  disappeared  in  nearly  all  the  modern 
languages  of  our  family,  its  duties  being  assumed  by  the  plural ; 
and  the  prepositions  have  long  been  usurping  the  ofiice  of  the 
case-endings,  and  rendering  these  dispensable.  In  English, 
now,  all  inflection  of  the  adjective  has  gone  out  of  use,  and 
we  have  saved  for  our  substantives  only  one  of  the  cases,  the 
genitive  or  possessive — to  which  a  few  of  the  pronouns  add 
also  an  accusative  or  objective :  thus,  lie,  his,  him,  they,  their ^ 
them,  etc.  Here,  too,  we  should  be  loth  to  acknowledge  that 
we  have  given  up  what  the  true  purposes  of  language  required 
us  to  keep,  that  we  can  speak  our  minds  any  less  distinctly 
than  our  ancestors  could,  with  all  their  apparatus  of  inflections. 
A  remarkable  example  of  the  total  abandomnent  of  a  con- 
spicuous department  of  grammatical  structure,  without  any 
compensating  substitution,  is  furnished  in  our  ti'eatment  of 
the  matter  of  gender.  The  grammatical  distinction  of  words 
as  masculine,  feminine,  or  neuter,  by  difi'erences  of  termina- 
stion  and  difi'erences  of  declension,  had  been  from  the  very 
I  earliest  period  the  practice  of  all  the  languages  of  the  family 
'to  which  the  English  belongs.  It  was  applied  not  alone  to 
names  of  objects  actually  possessed  of  sex,  but  to  all,  of  what- 
ever kind,  even  to  intellectual  and  abstract  terms  ;  the  whole 
language  was  the  scene  of  an  immense  personification,  v\  iiere- 


78  ONE    MODE   OF   FORMAL    DISTINCTION  [lECT. 

by  sexual  qualities  were  attributed  to  everytbing  in  tlu^  world 
botb  of  nature  and  of  mind  :  often  on  tbe  ground  of  concep- 
tions and  analogies  wliieh  we  find  it  excessively  difficult  to 
recognize  and  appreciate.  Tliis  state  of  things  still  prevailed 
in  tbe  Anglo-Saxon:  noiins  were  masculine,  feminine,  and 
neuter,  according  to  tbe  ancient  tradition  (for  exam.ple,  toth, 
*  tootb,'  was  masculine  ;  sijn,  '  sin,'  was  feminine  ;  and  wif, 
'wife,  woman,'  was  neuter)  ;  and  every  adjective  and  adjec- 
tive-pronoun was  declined  in  tbe  three  genders,  and  made  to 
agree  with  its  noun  in  gender  as  well  as  in  number  and  case, 
just  as  if  it  were  Latin  or  G^reek.  But  in  tbat  vast  decay 
and  ruin  of  grammatical  forms  wbicb  attended  tbe  elaboration 
of  our  modern  English  out  of  its  Saxon  and  Norman  elements, 
tbe  distinctive  suffixes  of  gender  and  declension  have  disap- 
peared along  with  the  rest ;  and  with  them  has  disappeared 
this  whole  scheme  of  artificial  distinctions,  of  such  immemorial 
antiquity  and  wide  acceptance.  It  has  completely  passed  from 
our  meniory  and  our  conception,  leaving  not  a  trace  behind ; 
the  few  pronominal  forn:s  indicative  of  sex  wbirh  we  liave 
saved — namely,  he,  she,  it,  his  and  him,  her,  and  its — we  use 
only  according  to  the  requirenients  of  actual  sex  or  its 
absence,  or  to  help  a  poetic  personification ;  and  we  thirik  it 
very  inconvenient,  and  even  hardly  fair,  that,  in  learning 
!Froncb  and  Grcrman,  we  are  called  u])on  to  burden  ourselves 
with  arbitrary  and  unpractical  distinctions  of  grammatical 
gender. 
^  The  disposition  to  rid  our  words  of  whatever  in  them 
is  superfluous,  or  can  be  spared  without  detriment  to  dis- 
tinctness of  expression,  has  led  in  our  language,  as  in  many 
others,  to  curious  replacements  of  an  earlier  mode  of  indicat- 
ing meaning  by  one  of  later  date,  and  of  inorganic  origin — 
that  is  to  say,  not  produced  for  the  pur])0se  to  wliich  it 
is  applied.  Thus  we  have  a  fesv  plurals,  of  wbicb  men  from 
man,  feet  from  foot,  and  miee  fiom  mouse  are  familiar  ex- 
amples, which  constitute  noteworthy  exceptions  to  our 
general  rule  for  the  formation  of  the  plural  number.  Com- 
parison of  tbe  older  dialects  soon  shows  us  that  the  change 
of  vowel  in  such  words  as  these  was  originally  an  accident 
only  J  it  was  not  significant,  but  euphonic  ;  it  was  called  out 


III.]  REPLACED    BT    ANOT.iER.  79 

by  the  "vowels  of  certain  case-endings,  whicli  assimilated  the 
vowels  of  the  nouns  to  Avliich  they  were  attached.  So  little 
was  the  altered  vowel  in  Anglo-Saxon  a  sign  of  plurality, 
that  it  was  found  also  in  one  of  the  singular  cases,  while  tv>'0 
of  the  plural  cases  exhibited  the  unchanged  vowel  of  the 
theme.      Man,  for  instance,  was  thus  declined : 

Singular.  Plural. 

Kom.  man,  'man':  men,  'men.* 

Gen.  mannes,         'man's';  manna,     'men's.' 

Dat.  7ncn,  'toman';  ma  nnurn,  'to  men.' 

Accus.  man,  'man';  me7i,  'men.' 

But  the  nominative  and  accusative  singular  exhibited 
one  vowel,  and  the  nominative  and  accusative  plural  another; 
and  so  this  incidental  difference  of  pronunciation  between 
the  forms  of  most  frequent  occurrence  in  the  two  numbers 
respectively  came  to  appear  before  the  popular  apprehension 
as  indicative  of  the  distinction  of  number ;  its  genesis  was 
already  long  forgotten,  as  the  case-endings  which  called  it  out 
nad  disappeared ;  and  now  it  was  fully  invested  with  a  new 
office — though  only  in  a  few  rather  arbitrarily  selected  cases: 
the  word  book,  for  example,  has  the  same  hereditary  right  to 
a  plural  beek,  instead  of  books,  as  hasybo^  to  a  plural /^e^,  in- 
stead o^foots.^  The  case  is  quite  the  same  as  if,  at  present, 
because  we  pronounce  national  (with  "  short  «"J  the  adjective 
derived  from  ndiion,  we  should  come  finally  to  neglect  as 
unnecessary  the  suffix  al,  and  should  allow  nation  and 
nation  to  answer  to  one  another  as  corresponding  substantive 
and  adjective. 

A  very  similar  case  of  substitution  of  distinctions  origin- 
ally accidental  for  others  of  formal  and  organic  growth  ap- 
pears also  in  some  of  our  verbs.  From  dcelan,  '  to  deal,'  thp 
Anglo-Saxon  formed,  by  the  usual  suffixes  of  conjugation, 
the  imperfect  decide  and  the  participle  dalcd.  In  our 
mouthing  over  of  these  forms  to  suit  our  ideas  of  con- 
venient pronunciation,  we  have  established  a  dilierence 
of  vowel  sound  among  them,  saying  I  deal,  but  he  dealt  and 
we  lave  dealt.     Here  is  an  internal  distinction,  of  euphonic 

*  The  plural  of  boc  in  Anglo-Saxon  is  bee,  as  that  of/oi  is /St. 


80  HISTOaT    OF   THE  [lECT. 

origin,  accompanying  and  auxiliury  to  the  externa]  distinc- 
tion of  coiijugatioual  endings.  But,  among  the  not  in- 
considerable number  of  verbs  exhibiting  this  secondary 
change  of  vowel,  there  are  a  few,  ending  in  d,  in  ■which 
we  have  elevated  it  to  a  primary  rank,  casting  away  the 
endings  as  inconvenient  and  unnecessary.  Thus,  where  the 
Anglo-Saxon  says  JcBclan,  lo'dde,  Iceded,  and  rdedan,  rcedde, 
Q'ceded,  we  say  I  lead,  he  led,  ice  have  iPd,  and  I  read,  he  read, 
we  have  read — not  even  taking  the  trouble,  in  the  latter 
instance,  to  vary  the  spelling  to  conform  to  the  pronuncia- 
tion. 

Yet  another  analogous  phenomenon  has  a  much  higher 
antiquity,  wider  prevalence,  and  greater  importance,  among 
the  languages  of  the  Germanic  family :  it  is  the  change 
of  radical  vowel  in  what  we  usually  call  the  "  irregular  "  con- 
jugation of  verbs.  The  imperfect  and  participle  of  sing,  for 
example,  are  distinguished  from  one  another  and  from  the 
present  solely  by  a  difference  of  vowel  :  thus,  sing,  sang,  sung. 
Other  verbs  exhibit  only  a  twofold  change,  their  participle 
agreeing  with  either  the  present  or  the  imperfect ;  thus, 
come,  came,  come ;  hind,  hound,  hound.  That  this  mode  of 
conjugation  is  Germanic  only,  proves  that  it  arose  after  the 
separation  of  the  Germanic  languages  from  the  greater 
family  of  which  these  form  a  branch.  It  is,  in  fact,  like  the 
other  changes  of  vowel  in  declension  and  conjugation  which 
we  have  just  been  considering,  of  euphonic  origin,  and  it  lias 
acquired  its  present  value  and  significance  in  comparatively 
modern  times :  indeed,  the  English  alone  has  sufi'ered  it  to 
reach  its  full  development  as  a  means  of  grammatical  ex- 
pression, by  generally  rejecting  all  aid  from  other  sources 
than  the  variation  of  vowels  in  distinguishing  the  verbal 
forms  from  one  another.  In  the  Anglo-Saxon,  it  still  woi-e 
in  great  measure  a  euphonic  aspect:  that  langunge  had  its 
separate  affixes  for  the  infinitive  and  participle;  it  said 
singan, '  to  sing,'  and  snngen, '  sung  ;'  and  its  present,  ic  siiige, 
;ind  its  preterit,  ic  sang,  were  distinguished  in  every  person 
but  one  by  terminations  of  different  form  :  the  varying  scale 
of  vowels,  then,  was  only  auxiliary  to  the  sense,  not  essential 
— and  it  had,  and   still  has,   to  a  considerable  extent,  thb 


ril.]  e.ERMANIC    PRETEPtlTS.  81 

game  value  in  the  other  G-ermanic  dialects,  ancient  and 
modern.  Moreover,  there  were  other  frequent  changes  of 
vowel  in  verbal  conjugation,  in  other  forms  than  these :  the 
second  and  third  persons  sitigular  present  often  differed 
from  the  first,  and  in  a  very  large  class  of  verbs  the  preterit 
pliira,l  differed  from  the  singular.  Thus,  from  lieJpan,  '  to 
help',  for  example,  we  have  ic  helpe,  '  I  help  '  ;  he  hylpth, 
'  he  helpeth  '  ;  ic  healp,  '  I  helped  ';  we  liulpon,  '  we  helped '; 
and  finally  liolpen,  '  helped' — a  fivefold  play  of  vowel  change. 
We,  in  our  unconscious  endeavour  to  utilize  what  w^as 
practically  valuable  in  this  condition  of  things,  and  to  reject 
the  rest  from  use,  have  retained  and  now  admit,  at  most,  a 
threefold  variation,  and  have  made  it  directly  and  independ- 
ently significant,  by  casting  away  the  needless  terminations. 
/  An  interesting  illustration  of  the  way  in  which  phonetic 
corruption  sometimes  creates  a  necessity  for  new  forms,  and 
leads  to  their  production,  is  to  be  noted  in  connection  with 
this  su1)ject.  The  Germanic  preterits  were  originally  form- 
ed by  means  of  a  reduplication,  like  the  Greek  and  some  of 
the  Latin  perfects;*  but  the  variation  of  a  radical  vov>'el 
had,  to  no  small  extent,  supplanted  it,  assuming  its  office 
and  causing  its  disappearance  in  the  great  majority  of  an- 
cient verbs.  Its  recognition  as  the  sign  of  past  meaning, 
and  its  application  to  the  formation  of  preterits  Trom  new 
verbs,  were  thus  broken  up  and  rendered  ineffective.  At 
the  same  time,  the  change  of  vowel  was  too  irregular  and 
seemingly  capricious  to  supply  its  place  in  such  uses ;  there 
was  no  single  analogy  presented  before  the  minds  of  the 
language-makers,  which  could  be  securely  and  intelligently 
followed.  Hence,  for  all  derivative  and  denominative  verbs 
— additions  by  which  every  language  is  constantly  enriching 
its  stores  of  verbal  expression — a  new  kind  of  past  tense 
had  to  be  formed,  by  composition  with  the  old  reduplicated 
preterit  did,  as  has  been  already  explain-ed.)(  This  being  soou 
converted  into  a  suffix,  and  the  number  of  preterits  formed  by 
means  of  it  increasing  greatly  and  rapidly,  it  became  by 
degrees  the  more  common  indicator  of  past  action,  and  waa 

*  See  below,  lecture  vii.  p.  238. 


82  our.  POSSESSIVE  and  plural  endings.         [lect. 

recognized  as  such  by  tlie  popular  apprehension.  From 
that  time,  it  began  to  exhibit  a  tendency  to  extend  its  sphere 
of  application  at  the  expense  of  the  more  ancient  modes  of 
forming  tlie  preterit  tense — the  same  tendency  whicli  shows 
itself  so  noticeably  now  in  every  child  who  learns  the  En<,^- 
lish  language,  inclining  him  to  say  I  hriiujpd,  I gocd,  I  seed, 
until  with  much  pains  he  is  taught  the  various  "  irregular  " 
forms,  and  is  made  to  employ  them  as  prevailing  usaLTO 
directs.  Prevailing  usage  has  in  our  language  already  rati- 
fied a  host  of  such  blundei-s  ;  a  large  portion  of  the  ancient 
Germanic  verbs,  formerly  inflected  after  the  analogy  of  sing, 
come,  bind,  give,  and  their  like,  we  now  conjugate  "regular- 
ly." One  instance  we  have  had  occasion  to  notice  above — 
the  verb  help,  of  which  the  ancient  participle  holpen,  instead 
of  helped,  is  still  to  be  found  in  our  English  Bibles  :  otliers 
are  hake,  creep,  fold,  leap,  laugh,  smoke,  starve,  wade,  wield. 

Further  examples  of  the  same  tendency  toward  extension 
of  prevailing  analogies  beyond  their  historically  correct 
Jmits  are  to  be  seen  in  the  pi-esent  declension  of  our  nouns. 
The  letter  s  is,  willi  us,  tiie  sign  of  all  possessive  cases,  not 
in  the  singular  number  alone,  but  in  tlie  plural  also  of  such 
words  as  do  not  form  their  plural  in  s  ;  thus,  viands,  tnea^s ; 
child's,  children's.  In  the  Anglo-Saxon,  it  was  the  genitive 
ending  of  the  singular  only,  and  by  no  means  in  all  nouns : 
the  feminines,  without  exception,  and  many  nuisculines  and 
neuters,  formed  their  genitives  in  other  ways.  But  it  was 
the  possessive  sign  in  a  majority  of  substantives,  and  there 
was  no  other  distinctive  ending  which  had  the  same  office  ; 
and  accordingly,  it  came  to  be  so  associated  with  the  rela- 
tion of  possession  in  the  minds  of  Eng-Ush  speakers,  that,  in 
the  great  change  and  simplification  of  grammatical  apjiaratus 
which  attended  the  transition  of  Anglo-Saxon  into  English, 
its  use  was  gradually  extended,  till  at  last  no  exceptions 
were  left.  A  like  treatment  has  given  our  plural  suffix  the 
range  of  application  which  it  now  exhibits.  Less  than  half 
the  Anglo-Saxon  nouns  had  plunds  in  s :  it  was  restricted 
to  a  single  gender,  the  masculine,  nor  did  it  even  form  all 
the  masculine  plurals  ;  while,  in  our  usage,  it  is  almost  uni- 
versal, the  only  exceptions  bei'.ig  the  anomalous  forms  already 


J 


III.]  MOBILIZATION   OF    NEW    WORDS.  83  ' 

referred  to  (men,  mice,  feet,  etc.),  and  the  few  words,  like 
oxen  from  ox,  in  which  we  have  retained  relics  of  another 
mode  of  declension,  once  belonging  to  a  large  class  of  nonus. 
The  prevalence  which  this  suffix  has  attained  in  our  Ian-  , 
guage  has  been  plausibly  conjectured  to  be  in  part  due  to  \ 
the  influence  of  the   Prench-speaking  IN'ormans,  in  who?^e  ( 
own  tongue  s  was  the  plural-sign  in  all  nouns,  having  become    j 
such  by  a  similar  extension  of  its  original  Latin  use.  ^J 

This  extensibility  of  application  is  a  part  of  the  essential 
and  indispensable  character  of  a  formative  element.  We 
have  not  to  go  over  and  over  again  with  the  primitive  act 
of  composition  and  the  subsequent  reduction,  in  each  separ- 
ate case.  It  needs  only  that  there  be  words  enough  in  / 
familiar  use  in  a  language,  in  which  a  certain  added  element 
distinctly  impresses  a  certain  modification  of  meaning  upon 
certain  plainly  recognizable  primitives,  and  we  establish  a 
direct  association  between  that  element  and  the  given  modi- 
fication of  meaning,  and  are  ready  to  apply  the  former  wher- 
ever we  wish  to  signify  the  latter.  The  ending  ly,  for  in- 
stance, we  use  when  we  want  to  make  an  adverb,  without 
any  thought  of  whether  the  adjective  lilce  would  or  would 
not  be  properly  ccmbinable  with  the  word  to  which  we  add 
the  ending.  This  alone  makes  it  possible  to  mobilize,  so 
to  speak,  our  linguistic  material,  to  use  our  old  and  new 
words  in  all  the  circumstances  among  which  they  are  liable  . 
to  fall.  We  adopt  into  our  common  speech  a  new  term  like 
telegraph ;  it  was  manufactured  out  of  the  stores  of  expres- 
sion of  the  ancient  Greek  language,  by  some  man  versed  in 
that  classic  tongue,  and  is  implicitly  accepted,  under  the 
sanction  and  recommendation  of  the  learned,  by  the  pubHc 
at  large,  who  neither  know  nor  care  for  its  etymology,  who 
know  only  that  they  want  a  name  for  a  thing,  and  that  this 
answers  their  purpose.  It  thtis  becomes  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  an  English  word,  a  naturalized  citizen  in  our  tongue, 
invested  with  all  the  rights  and  duties  of  a  native — and  divest- 
ed, also,  of  those  which  belonged  to  it  by  hereditary  descent, 
among  its  own  kith  and  kin.  We  proceed,  accordingly,  to 
apply  to  it  a  whole  apparatus  of  English  inflections,  long 
since  worked  out  by  the  processes  of  linguistic  change,  and 

6* 


I 


84  OBLITERATION    OF  [lSCT. 

not  yet  destroyed  by  the  same  processes.     AYe  make  of  it  a 
verb,  in  various  forms  :   he  telegrajjlis,  they  telegraphed,  I  shall 
telegraph,  we  are  telegraphing,  tlie  art  of  telegraphing  ;  otlier 
nouna  come  from  it,  as  telegrapher,  telegraphist,  telegraphy ; 
we  can  turn  it  into  an  adjective,  telegraphic  ;  and  this,  again, 
into  an  adverb,  telegraphically .    Historical  congruency  is  the 
last  thing  we  think  of  in  all  this.    To  a  Greek  word  we  add, 
without   compunction,   endings  of   wholly  diverse  descent : 
the  greater  part  are  Germanic,  coming  down  to  us  from  the 
An^lo-Saxon  ;    but  one   or  two,  ic,   ical,  are  Latin ;  and  at 
least  one,  ist,  comes  ultimately  from  the  Greek.     Made  up, 
as   our  English   language  is,   out   of   two   diverse  tonguei, 
Anglo-Saxon  and  Norman- French,  and  with  more  or  less  in- 
termixture of  many  others,  such  a  condition  of  things  could 
not  be  avoided ;    it  is,  while  practically   one  homogeneous 
tongue,  historically  a  composite  structure,  both  in  vocabulary 
and  in  grammar.     Its  gram^matical  apparatus,  its  system  of 
mobile  endings,   whereby  words   may  be  derived,  inflected, 
and  varied,  is,  indeed,  in  its  larger  and  more  essential  part 
Germanic  ;  but  it  is  also  in  no  insignificant  measure  Latin; 
while  hosts  of  Latin  words  receive  Germanic  endmgs,  not  a 
few  Germanic  words  appear  invested  with  Latin  and  Frencii 
affixes,  which  have  more  or  less  fully  acquired  in  our  use  the 
value  of  formative  elements:  such  are  dis-helirf,  re-light,  for- 
hear-ance,  atow-ment,  odd-ity,  huntr-ess,  eat-ahle,  talk-ative* 
!      Hitherto  we  have  taken  note  only  of  those  effects  of  the 
wearing-out  process  in  language  which  lead  to  the  substitu- 
tion of  one  means  of  expression  for  another,  or  which,  as  in 
the  case  of  grammatical  gender,  do  away  with  luxuries  of 
expression  which  any  tongue  can  well   afford   to   dispense 
with.     But  that  popular  use  is  not  content  with  abolishing 
distinctions  which  are  wanting  in  practical  viilue,  with  giving 
up  what  is  otherwise  replaced,  or  can  be  spared  without  loss, 
Y>'e  shall  be  fully  persuaded,  if  we  inerely  note  what  is  all 
the  time  going  on  around  us.     The  wholly  regrettable  in- 
accuracies of  heedless    speakers,  their  confusion  of  things 
wliich  ought  to  be  carefully  held  apart,  their  obliteration  of 

♦  Those  examples  are  taken  from  Professor  Uadloy's  "  Brief  History  of 
khe  Eiiirlish  Laiiun'i  '<•  "  „.-..0x  ,1  .,,  t'...  \y*f%\  «^Hitiouyi'  SVebster's  Dictionary. 


III.]  -Valuable  distinctiojis.  811 

valuable  distinctions — all  these  are  part  and  parcel  of  the 
ceaseless  changes  of  language,  and  not  essentially  different 
froni  the  rest ;  they  are  only  that  part  against  -which  the 
best  public  sentiment,  a  healthy  feeling  for  the  conseryation 
of  linguistic  integrity,  arrays  itself  most  strongly,  and  which 
therefore  are  either  kept  down  altogether,  or  come  but 
slowly  and  sparingly  to  acceptance.  Let  us  note  a  few'  in- 
stances of  such  linguistic  degeneration. 

There  is  in  English  a  long-standing  tendency  to  efface  the 
distinction  of  form  between  the  imperfect  and  participle, 
usually  assimilating  the  former  to  the  latter,  though  not  in- 
frequently also  the  latter  to  the  former.  Spoke  and  Iroke^ 
for  spake  and  hrake,  held  for  holden,  and  many  others,  are  of 
recent  acceptance,  but  now  impregnably  established ;  from 
hegin,  and  a  considerable  class  of  like  verbs,  the  two  forms 
lie  began  and  lie  begun,  and  so  forth,  are  in  nearly  equal 
favour ;  *  he  come  for  he  came,  I  done  for  I  did,  and  otl^ers 
like  them,  are  still  blunders  and  vulgarism.s ;  and  we  may 
hope  that  they  will  always  continue  such.  These  alterations 
find  support  in  one  of  the  analogies  of  the  language,  which 
has  doubtless  done  much  to  call  them  forth.  In  our  regular 
verbs,  namely,  there-  is  an  entire  coincidence  of  form  between 
the  preterit  and  participle.  The  careless  speaker  reasons — 
not  consciously,  but  in  effect — thus  :  If  I  say  I  gained  and 
I  have  gained,  I  dealt  and  /  have  dealt,  why  not  also  I  sung 
and  I  have  sung,  he  drank  and  he  has  drank,  ice  held  and  tee 
have  held,  they  done  and  they  have  done  ? 

It  is  not  often,  perhaps,  that  the  preterit  and  participle 
will  stand  in  connections  which  fail  to  show  distinctly  which 
form  is  meant  by  the  speaker  or  wi-iter.  But  we  have  also 
a  few  verbs — of  which  put  is  a  famihar  example — in  which 
all  distinction  of  present  and  preterit  is  likei\ase  lost :  if  we 
say  they  put,  the  general  requirements  of  the  sense  alone 
can  point  out  the  tense,  just  as  if  the  phrase  were  so  much 
Chinese. 

*  This  variation  is  of  ancient  date,  and  doubtless  founded  upon  the  fact 
that,  in  many  verbs  of  the  class,  the  vowels  were  unlike  in  the  singular  and 
plural  of  the  preterit :  thus,  from  singan,  the  Anglo-Saxon  has  In  sang^  but 
we  ti  ngon. 


86  OBLITERATION    OF  [lECT. 

The  common  confusion  of  learn  and  ieacli,  as  in  "  /  learnt 
him  to  swim,"  is  another  case  of  a  somewhat  similar  charac- 
ter, beins;  also  favoured  by  a  recognized  usage  of  our  lan- 
guage, which  permits  us  iii  numerous  instances  to  employ  a 
verl)  in  both  a  simple  and  a  causative  sense.  We  say  correctly 
"  the  ship  ran  aground  "  and  "  they  ran  it  aground  "  ;  why 
not  as  well  "  the  boy  learned  his  lesson  "  and  "  they  learned 
him  his  lesson  "  ? 

A  reprehensible  popular  inaccuracy — commencing  in  this 
country,  I  believe,  at  the  South  or  am.ong  the  Irish,  but 
lately  making  very  alarming  progress  northward,  and  through 
almost  all  classes  of  the  community — is  threatening  to  wipe 
out  in  the  first  persons  of  our  futures  the  distinction  between 
the  two  auxiliaries  shall  and  luill,  casting  away  the  former, 
and  putting  the  latter  in  its  place.  The  Southerner  says  : 
"  It  is  certain  that  we  icill  fail,"  "I  icoiild  try  in  vain  to 
thank  you."  To  say  /  shall  in  circumstances  where  we 
should  say  he  will,  to  put  we  should  where  good  usage  would 
require  they  would,  seems  to  these  people,  who  have  never 
investigated  either  the  history  or  the  philosophy  of  the 
difi'erence  of  the  phraseology  in  the  two  persons,  an  incon- 
sistency which  may  and  should  be  avoided.  The  matter, 
however,  is  one  which  implies  a  violation  not  only  of  good 
English  usage,  but  also  of  sound  etv-inological  morality  :  shall 
originally  and  properly  contains  the  idea  of  duty,  and  icill 
that  of  resolve  ;  and  to  disregai'd  obligation  in  the  laying  out 
of  future  action,  making  arbitrary  resolve  the  sole  guide,  is  a 
lesson  which  the  community  ought  not  to  learn  from  any 
section  or  class,  in  language  any  more  tlian  in  political  and 
social  conduct. 

Once  more,  our  verb  has  long  been  undergoing  a  process  of 
impoverishment  by  the  obliteration  of  its  subjunctive  mood. 
This  had  begun  even  in  the  Anglo-Saxon,  by  the  partial  loss  | 
of  the  distinctive  signs  of  subjunctive  meaning,  and  the  I 
assimilation  of  the  subjunctive  and  indicative  fonns.  The 
wearing-ofl'  of  inflections  since  that  period  has  nearly  finished 
the  work,  by  wij)ing  out,  in  aln\ost  every  verb  in  the  language, 
all  foj-mal  distimtion  between  tlv2  two  moods,  except  in  the 
eecond  and  third  persons  singular  present  and  the  second 


[II.]  VALUABLE    DISTINCTIONS.  87 

aiugular  preterit :  tliere,  it  was  still  possible  to  say  if  tliou 
love,  if  lie  love,  if  thou  loved,  instead  of  tlioic  lovest,  he  loves, 
thoic  lovedst.  But  the  second  persons  haye  become  of  so  rare 
use  with  us  that  they  could  render  little  aid  in  keeping  alive 
in  the  minds  of  speakers  the  apprehension  of  the  subjunctive  : 
it  virtually  rested  solely  upon  the  single  form  if  he  love.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  the  distinction,  so  weakly  sustained,  be- 
came an  evanescent  one  ;  in  if  they  love,  if  we  loved,  and  so 
on,  forms  apparently  indicative  answered  sufficiently  well  the 
purpose  of  conditional  expression  ;  why  not  also  in  the  third 
person  singular  ?  Under  the  influence  of  such  considera- 
tions, it  has  become  equally  allowable  to  write  if  he  loves  and 
if  he  love,  even  in  careful  and  elegant  styles  of  composition, 
while  the  latter  is  but  very  rarely  heard  in  colloquial  discourse. 
Only  in  the  verb  to  he,  whose  subjunctive  forms  were  more 
plainly,  and  in  more  persons,  distinguished  from  the  in- 
dicative, have  they  maintained  themselves  m.ore  firmly  in 
use :  to  say  if  I  icas,  if  he  was,  for  if  I  were,  if  he  were,  is 
even  now  decidedly  careless  and  inelegant. 

AVliat  has  been  given  must  suflice  as  illustration  of  the  j 
abbreviation  of  forms,  the  mutilation  and  wearing  out  of  }\ 
formative  elements.  But  this,  though  a  fundamentally  and 
conspicuously  important  part  of  the  phonetic  history  of  a 
language,  is  only  a  part :  the  sam.e  tendency,  to  economize 
the  time  and  labour  expended  in  speaking,  to  make  the 
utterance  of  words  more  easy  and  convenient,  shows  itself  in 
a  great  variety  of  other  ways.  Kone  of  the  articulate  ele- 
ments of  which  our  vocables  are  composed  are  exempt  from 
alteration  under  the  operation  of  this  tendency  ;  while  a 
word  continues  to  maintain  its  general  structure  and  gram- 
matical form,  it  is  liable  to  change  by  the  conversion  of  some 
of  its  sounds  into  others,  by  omission,  even  by  addition  or  in- 
sertion. The  subject  of  phonetic  change  in  language  is  too 
vast,  and  runs  out  into  a  too  infinite  detail,  to  be  ti-eated  here 
with  any  fulness  :  we  can  only  attempt  to  direct  our  at- 
tention to  its  most  important  features  and  guiding  principles. 

Each  one  of  the  sounds  composing  our  spoken  alphabet  is 
produced  by  an  effort  in  which  the  lungs,  the  throat,  and  the 
orgafns  of  the   mouth  bear  a  part.     The  limgs  furnish  the 


88  PROCESSES   OP   PRODUCTION  [LECT, 

rougli  material,  an  expulsion  of  air,  in  p^reater  or  less  force  ; 
the  vocal  cords  in  the  larynx,  by  their  approximation  and 
vibration,  give  to  this  material  resonance  and  tone  ;  while  it 
receives  its  final  form,  its  articulate  character,  by  the  modify- 
ing action  of  the  tongue,  palate,  and  lips.  Each  articulation 
thus  represents  a  certain  position  of  the  shaping  organs  of 
the  mouth,  through  which  a  certain  kind  and  amount  of 
material  is  emitted.  A  word  is  composed  of  a  series  of  sucb 
articulations,  and  implies  a  succession  of  changes  of  position 
in  the  mouth-organs,  often  accompanied  by  changes  in  the 
action  of  the  larynx  upon  the  passing  column  of  air.  Thus, 
for  example,  in  the  word  friendly.  At  first,  the  tips  of 
the  upper  teeth  are  pressed  upon  the  edge  of  the  lower  lip, 
and  simple  breath,  not  intonated  in  the  larynx,  is  forced  out 
between  the  two  organs  :  the  rustling  thus  produced  is  thej/^ 
sound.  The  teeth  and  lips  are  now  released  from  service, 
and  the  tip  of  the  tongue  is  brought  near  to  the  roof  of  the 
mouth  at  a  point  a  little  way  behind  the  gums  ;  at  the  same 
instant,  the  vocal  cords  are  raised  and  stiained,  so  that  the 
escaping  air  sets  them  in  vibration  and  becomes  sonant;  tone, 
instead  of  mxere  breath,  is  expelled;  and  the  sound  of  r  is 
heard.  Next  the  tongue  is  moved  again  ;  its  point  is  de- 
pressed in  the  mouth,  and  its  middle  raised  toward  the  palate, 
yet  not  so  near  but  that  the  sonant  breath  comes  forth  freely, 
giving  an  opener,  a  more  sonorous  and  continuable  tone  than 
either  of  the  preceding  positions  yielded  :  this  we  call  a 
vowel,  short  e.  Once  more  the  tip  of  the  tongue  approaches 
the  upper  part  of  the  mouth  behind  the  teeth,  and  this  time 
forms  a  close  contact  there,  cutting  off  all  exit  of  the  breath 
through  the  oral  passage  ;  but  the  passage  of  the  nose  is 
opened  for  its  escape,  and  we  hear  the  nasal  n.  To  produce 
the  next  sound,  d^  the  only  change  needed  is  the  closure  of  the 
nasal  passage  ;  the  mouth  and  nose  being  both  shut,  no  emis- 
sion of  breath  is  possible  ;  yet  the  tone  does  not  cease  ; 
breath  enough  to  support  for  an  instant  the  sonant  vibration 
of  the  vocal  cords  is  forced  up  into  the  closed  cavity  of 
the  mouth,  liehind  the  tongue  :  were  the  vibration  and  tone 
intei'initted  dunng  the  instant  of  closure,  the  sound  uttered 
would  be  a  /,  instead  of  a  d.     Before  the  oral  cavity  is  so  fuU 


III.]  OF   ARTICULATE   SOUNDS.  89 

that  tiie  sonant  utterance  can  be  no  longer  sustained,  the 
contact  of  the  tongue  with  the  roof  of  the  mouth  is  brokc;]i 
at  its  sides,  but  kept  up  at  its  tip,  in  which  position  the  con- 
tinuance of  intonated  emission  gcnera,tes  an  I.  Finally,  the 
tongue  is  released  at  the  tip  and  elevated  in  the  middle,  to  a 
posture  nearly  the  same  with  that  in  w^hich  the  former  vowel 
was  spoken,  only  a  little  closer,  and  we  have  another  vowel, 
a  short  i.  Here,  unless  some  other  word  immediately  follov.s, 
the  process  is  ended,  and  inarticulate  breathing  is  commenced 
again.  Thus,  during  tho  pronunciation  of  so  brief  and 
simple  a  w^ord,  the  mouth-organs  have  been  compelled  to  as- 
sume in  succession  seven  different  positions:  but  all  their 
movements  have  been  made  with  such  rapidity  and  precision, 
one  position  has  followed  another  so  closely  and  accurately, 
that  no  intermediate  sounds,  no  slides  from  one  to  another,  «) 
have  been  apprehended  by  the  ear  ;  it  has  heard  only  the 
seven  articulations.  The  action  of  the  tbroat  has  varied 
once  ;  passing  without  modilication  the  breath  expended  in 
uttering  the/^  it  has  intonated,  in  one  unbroken  sti-eam,  all 
that'  followed.  The  general  effort  of  utterance,  too,  the 
degree  of  exertion  put  forth  by  the  lungs,  has  not  been  the 
same  throughout :  the  former  part  of  the  Avord  has  been  ac- 
cented— tl.at  is  to  say,  spoken  with  a  fuller  and  stronger  tone 
— with  wdrich  effect,  when  not  contravened  by  the  empliasis, 
or  tone  of  the  sentence,  a  slight  rise  of  musical  pitch  is  wont 
to  ally  itse'f.  And  yet  once  more,  we  have  to  note  that  our 
word,  whether  w-e  regard  it  as  seven-fold  or  as  one-fold 
in  respect  to  the  action  of  the  articulating  organs,  presents 
itself  to  our  apprehension  as  a  two-fold  entity :  it  is  dissyllabic. 
This  property,  the  foundation  of  w^hich  is  in  the  ear  of 
the  hearer  rather  than  in  the  mouth  of  the  speaker,  depends 
upon  the  antithesis  of  the  opener  and  closer  sounds  com.pos- 
ing  the  word :  the  comparatively  open  and  resonant  vowxis 
strike  the  ear  as  the  prominent  and  prmcipa-l  constituents  of 
the  series,  while  the  closer  consonants  appear  as  their  adjuncts, 
separating  at  the  sam.e  time  that  they  connect  them. 

This  example  brings  to  light  the  principal  elements  which 
<=!nter  into  the  structure  of  spoken  signs  for  ideas,  and  which 
have  to  be  taken  into  account  in  all  iDauiries  into  the  phonetic 


90  DIFFICULT   AND    IMPOSSIBLE    COMEII'^ATIONS.  [lECT, 

history  of  language.    Each  constituent  of  the  spoken  alphabet 
rcMjuires,   in   order   to   its   production,   a    certain    kind    iir.d 
aijiount  of  effort  on  the  part  of  the  various  organs  concerned  I 
in    articulate    utterance.       Some  of  them    call  for    greater 
change  from  the  quiescent  condition  of  the  organs,  and  so  are 
in  themselves  harder  to  utter,  than  others.     And  again — 
what  is  of  far  higher  importance  in  jjhonologv — some  are 
much  harder  to  litter  than  others  in  connection  with  one 
another  ;  the  changes  of  position  and  mode  of  action  of  the 
articulating   organs   which   they  imply  are  m.ore   diliicult  of 
production  and  combination.     Thus,  it  is  perfectly  practica- 
ble to  arrange  the  sounds  composing  the  v^ord  friendly  in 
such  ways  as  to  give  very  harsh  combinations,  which,  although 
we  may  make  shift  to  utter  them  by  a  great  effort,  we  should 
ordinarily  and  properly  call  unpronounceable  :  for  example, 
nfdrely,   Ircfdmj,  yrfdnle.     And  our  Avord  itself,  easy  as  it 
seems  to  us,  would  be  deemed  harsh  and  unpronounceable  by 
many  a  race  and  nation  of  men.     It  is  all  a  question  of 
.  degree,  of  the  amount  of  labour  to  which  we  are  willing  to 
J  subject  our  articulating  organs  in  speaking.      Hosts  of  series 
of  sounds  may  be  made  up  which,  though  not  unutterable  by 
dint  of  devoted  and    vehement    exertion,   never  appear  in 
actual  speech,  because  they  are  practically  too  hard  ;   their 
cost  is  greater  than  their  value  ;  the  needs  of  speech  can  be 
supplied  without  resorting  to  them.     And  half  the  languages 
in  the  world  have  sounds  and  combinations  of  sounds  which 
other  tongues  eschew  as  being  harder  than  they  choose  to  utter. 
No  word  that  a  community  has  once  formed  and  uttered  is  in- 
capable of  being  kept  unchanged  in  their  use  ;  yet  use  breeds 
change  in  all  the  constituents  of  every  language  :  each  sound 
in  a  word  exercises  an  assimilating  influence  over  the  others 
in  its  neighbourhood,  tending  to  bring  them  into  some  other 
form  which  is  more  easily  uttered  in  connection  with  itself 
The  seat  of  "  euphony,"  as  we  somewhat  mistakenly  term  it, 
IS    in    the  mouth,   not  in   the   ear  ;  words  are  changed  in 
phonetic  structure,   not    accordhig  to  the   impression  they 
make  upon  the  organs  of  hearing,  but  according  to  the  action 
whicii  tliey  call  for  in  the  organs  of  speaking  ;  physiological, 
not  acoustic  relations  determine  how  sounds  shall  pass  into 
one  another  in  the  process  of  linguistic  growth. 


III.]       PHYSICAL    SYSTEM    OP    ENGLISH    SPOKEN    SOUNDS. 


91 


I 


A  spoken  alphabet,  then,  in  order  to  be  understood,  must 
be  arranged  upon  a  pbysiological  plan.  It  is  no  eliaos,  but 
an  orderly  system  of  articulations,  with  ties  of  relationship 
running  through  it  in  every  direction.  It  has  its  natural 
limits,  di\'isions,  and  lines  of  arrangement.  It  is  composed 
of  series  of  sounds,  produced  each  in  its  0"wn  part  of  the 
mouth,  by  different  degrees  of  approximation  of  the  same 
organs.  According  to  these  different  degrees  of  approxima- 
tion, mainly,  it  is  separated  into  classes :  the  opener  sounds 
we  call  vowels ;  the  closer,  consonants ;  and,  upon  the  limit 
between  the  two  are  sounds — like  I,  r,  n  in  EngKsh — which 
are  capable  of  use  as  either  consonants  or  vowels.  The  con- 
sonants, again,  are  subdivided  into  classes  of  lesser  extent, 
also  determined  by  their  correspondence  in  respect  to  measure 
of  openness,  resonance,  and  continuability :  such  are  the 
semivowels,  the  nasals,  tbe  fricatives  (which  may  be  further 
subdivided  into  sibilants  and  spirants),  and  the  mutes.  And, 
after  a  certain  grade  of  closeness  is  reached,  each  position  of 
the  mouth-organs  gives  rise  to  two  distinct  sounds,  sonant 
and  surd,  according  as  intonated  or  unintonated  breath  is 
expelled  through  it. 

The  English  spoken  alphabet,  arranged  according  to  this 
method,  presents  the  following  scheme:* 


a 


a 


Sonant 


II 


y 


n 


Surd 

h 

Sonant 

Surd 

h 

Sonant 

Surd 

Sonant 

9 

Surd 

k 

Palatal 
Series. 

r,l 
n 

% 

s 

d 

0 

d 

t 

Lingual 
Series. 


10 


in 


V 

f 

h 
p 

Labial 
Series. 


Vowels. 

Semivowels. 

Nasals. 

Aspiration. 

Sibilants. 
Spirants. 
Mutes. 


For  a  fuller  explanation  and  establishment  of  this  method  of  arrange- 


92  ORDINARY    CONVERSIONS  [lECT. 

The  scale  of  tliese  lectures  does  not  require  us  to  enter 
into  a  more  detailed  examination  of  tlie  organs  of  speech  and 
their  product,  articulate  sounds,  or  a  more  exact  definition  of 
the  physical  relations  of  articulate  sounds,  than  has  thus  been 
given.  The  principal  and  most  frequent  phonetic  transitions 
are  sufficiently  explained  by  our  alphabetic  scheme.  Let  us 
notice  a  few  of  them. 

The  conversion  of  a  surd  letter  into  its  corresponding^  sonant, 
or  of  sonant  into  surd,  is  abundantly  illustrated  in  the  history  of 
every  language.  Our  own  plural  sign,  6-, is  pronounced  as  6-  onJy 
when  it  follows  another  surd  consonant,  as  in  plants,  cakes  ; 
after  a  sonant  consonant  or  a  vowel,  it  becomes  z,  as  in  eyes, 
pins,  pegs.  A  like  change  is  common  between  two  vowels,  as 
in  busy ;  the  vowel  intonation  being  continued  througli  the 
intervening  consonant,  instead  of  intennittcd  during  its  utter- 
ance. So,  on  the  other  hand,  we  turn  a  d  into  a  /  after  an- 
other surd  consonant,  where  a  sonant  would  be  only  with 
difficulty  pronounced,  as  in  looked  (lookt)  ;  and  the  Gennan 
eliminates  the  intonation  from  all  his  final  mutes,  speaking 
Tcind,  kalb,  as  if  they  were  written  hint,  kalp.  Sounds  of  the 
same  series,  but  of  difterent  classes,  easily  pass  into  one  an- 
other :  til  us,  the  spirants  {f,  th,  and  so  on)  are  almost  uni- 
versally derived  from  the  full  mutes,  by  a  substitution  of  a 
close  approximation  (usually  accompanied,  it  is  true,  by  a 
slight  shii'ting  of  position)  for  the  full  mute  contact ;  and  they 

ment  of  the  alphabet,  see  the  author's  ])apcrs  on  the  Standard  Alphabet  of  Pro- 
fessor Lopsius,  in  the  Journal  of  tlic  Amtrican  Oriental  Societv,  vol.  vii.,  ])p. 
299—332,  and  vol.  viii.,  pp.  33o— 373.  The  signs  used  in  the  scheme 
are  those  of  the  Lepsian  system.  Thus,  a  represents  the  sound  mfar  ;  fj,  in 
fat;  e,  in  flien  and  t/iei/ ;  i,  in  pin  and  pique  ;  a,  in  u/idt  and  all;  o,  in 
tiofe  ;  u,  in  full  and  rule  ;  e,  in  bun  and  burn  ;  X,  the  z  of  azure  ;  i,  the  sh 
of  sfiun;  S,  the  ih  of  t/iat ;  B,  the  ih  of  ihin.  The  distinction  of  loni?  and 
short  vowels,  althoui^h  it  is  in  every  case  founded  on  a  difference  of  cjuality 
as  well  as  quantity,  is  here,  for  convenience's  sake,  omittc  d  ;  as  are  also  the 
diphthongs  at,  an,  and  ni,  as  in  pint,  pound,  point  (of  which  the  two  first  are 
rather  vocal  slides  than  diphthongs).  The  compound  consonants  ch  and/,  in 
church,  juflffe.  have  also  strictly  a  right  to  separate  representation;  since, 
thouirh  their  final  dement  respectively  is  ,(  and  *.  their  initial  element  is  not 
precisely  our  usual  t  and  d,  hut  one  of  another  quality,  more  palatal,  ^yere 
all  these  ditferrnces  of  utterance  noted  by  st^parate  characters,  our  written 
Uphubot  would  contain  forty-two  signs,  instead  of  the  thirty  given  abo\B. 


III.]  OF    SOUNDS    INTO    ONE   ANOTHER.  93 

come  especially  from  such  mutes  as  were  originally  aspirated — • 
that  is  to  say,  had  an  audible  bit  of  an  h  pronounced  after 
them,  before  the  following  sound :  the  way  in  which  they  are 
often  written,  as  ph,  tli,  cli  (German),  is  a  result  and  eyidence 
of  this  their  origin.  A  v,  too,  has  in  many  languages  taken 
the  place  of  an  earlier  semivowel  w.  Of  the  transition  of 
the  spi]'ant  tli  into  the  sibilant  s  a  notable  example  is  offered 
in  our  substitution — now  become  universal  except  in  anti- 
quated and  solemn  styles — of  he  loves  for  lie  loveth :  s  aa 
ending  of  the  third  person  singular  of  verbs  is  rare  iu 
Chaucer,  and  quite  unknown  a  little  earlier.  An  s  between 
vowels,  instead  of  being  turned  into  its  own  corresponding 
sonant,  z,  becomes  sometimes  the  next  opener  sonant  of  the 
same  series,  namely  r :  this  change  prevails  very  extensively 
in  many  tongues,  as  the  Sanskrit,  Latin,  Grermanic  ;  a  familiar 
example  of  its  effect  is  seen  in  our  tcere,  plural  and  subjunc- 
tive *of  teas,  which  has  retained  the  original  sibilant.  A  less 
frequent  and  regular  change  puts  in  place  of  a  letter  of  one 
series  one  belonging  to  the  same  class  but  a  different  series. 
Thus,  when  the  English  gave  up  in  pronunciation  its  palatal 
spirant — still  written  in  so  many  of  our  words  w4th  ^h — 
while  it  usually  simply  silenced  it,  prolonging  or  strengthen- 
ing, by  way  of  compensation,  the  preceding  vowel,  as  in  lir/Jit, 
hough,  Hugh,  it  sometimes  substituted  the  labial  spirant  J^,  as 
in  cough,  trough  ;  and,  in  the  latter  word,  a  common  popular 
error,  doubtless  going  back  to  the  time  of  first  abandonment 
of  the  proper  gh  sound,  substitutes  the  lingual  spirant,  th, 
pronouncing  troth.  So  the  Russians  put /"  for  th,  turning 
Theodore  into  Fedor.  Exchanges  of  the  mutes  of  different 
organs  with  one  another  are  not  very  seldom  met  with, 
though  not  so  easy  to  illusti'ate  wdth  English  instances :  tlje 
fent  oi^  pentagon  and  the  quinq  of  quinquennial  are  Greek  and 
Latin  versions  of  the  same  original  word,  which  in  our  owu 
tongue,  moreover,  has  heQOvaQjive.  "We  often  hear  persona 
who  have  a  constitutional  or  habitual  inaptness  to  pronounce 
an  r,  and  who  turn  it  into  a  w,  or  an  I :  r  and  Z,  indeed, 
throughout  the  history  of  language,  are  the  most  interchange- 
able of  sounds.  Combination  of  consonants  leads  with  espe- 
cial frequency  to  the  assimilation  of  the  one  to  the  other : 


94  ENGLISH    ORTHOGRAPHY.  [lECT. 

our  ditto  is  the  Latin  dictum,  '  said  '  ;  we  say  dis-join,  but  dif- 
fuse ;  in-diJJ'erent,  but  im-possihle ;  ad-dict,  but  an-niil,  uj)' 
pejid,  assign,  ac-cede,  affirm,  ag-gress,  al-lude,  am-munition . 

If  the  consonants  are  thus  variously  liable  to  pass  into  one 
auuther,  a  yet  higher  degree  of  mobility  belongs  to  the  vowels. 
It  is  needless  to  go  into  particulars  upon  this  point :  the  con- 
dition of  our  own  vowel-system  is  a  sufficient  illustration  of 
it.  The  letters  a,  e,  i,  o,  u  were  originally  devised  and  in- 
tended to  represent  the  vowel-sounds  in  far,  preg,  piqtte,  jjole, 
and  rule,  respectively,  and  they  still  have  those  values,  con- 
si  antly  or  prevailingly,  in  most  of  the  other  languages  which 
employ  them.  But,  during  the  written  period  of  our  oa\ti 
tongue,  the  pronunciation  of  its  vowels  has  undergone — partly 
under  the  influence  of  circumstances  which  are  still  clearly 
to  be  pointed  out — very  sweeping  and  extensive  changes, 
while  our  words  have  continued  to  be  spelt  nearly  as 
lormerly ;  and  the  consequence  has  been  a  grand  dislocation 
of  our  orthographical  system,  a  divorcement  of  our  written 
from  our  spoken  alphabet.  Our  written  vowels  have  from 
three  to  nine  values  each,  and  they  are  supplemented  in  use 
by  a  host  of  digraphs,  of  equally  variable  pronunciation  ;  our 
Bpoken  vowels  have  each  from  two  to  tw^elve  written  repre- 
sentatives. All  the  i]iternal  relations  of  our  sounds  are 
turned  awry  ;  what  we  call  "  long  "  and  "  short  "  a,  or  i,  or  w, 
or  e,  or  o,  are  really  no  more  related  to  one  another  as  cor- 
responding long  and  short,  than  dog  and  cat,  sun  and  mooiiy 
are  related.to  one  another  as  corresponding  male  and  fcu^ale. 
A\  ith  our  consonants,  also,  the  case  is  but  little  better  than 
with  our  vowels:  our  words,  as  we  write  them,  are  full  of 
silent  and  andiiguous  signs  of  every  class,  unremoved  ruins 
of  an  overthroAvn  phonetic  sti'ucture.  And  our  sense  of  the 
fifticss  of  things  has  become  so  debauched  by  our  training  in 
tlic  midst  of  these  vicious  surroundings,  that  it  seems  to  us 
natural  and  proper  that  the  same  sound  should  be  written  in 
many  different  ways,  the  same  sign  have  many  different  sounds; 
the  great  majority  of  us  seriously  believe  and  soberly  main- 
tain that  a  historical  is  preferable  to  a  phonetic  spelling — 
that  is  to  say,  that  it  is  better  to  write  our  words  as  we 
iniagiuo  that  somebody  else  pronounced  them  a  long  time 


in.l    PHONETIC  CHANGE  IN  PART  UNEXPLAINABLE.       95 

since,  than  as  we  proDOunce  them  ourselves ;  and  an  ortho- 
epical  corruption  or  anomaly,  like  ktjind  for  kind,  dance  for 
dance,   ne'ttlier.   for   nPitlier,  is     less    frowned    on    by   public 
opinion,  and  has  a  better  chance  for  adoption  into  general 
use,  than  any,  the  most  obvious,  improvement  of  ortliography. 
The  illustrations  of  phonetic  change  which  we  have  been 
considering  concern,  as  was  claimed  for  them  at  the  outset, 
only  the  most  frequent  and  easily  explainable  phenomena  o£ 
their  kind,  those  which  are  found  to  prevail  more  or  less  in 
almost  every  known  language.      But  every  language  has  its 
own  peculiar  history  of  phonetic  development,  its  special  laws 
of  mutation,  its  caprices  and  idiosyncrasies,  which  no  amount 
of  learning  and  acuteness  could  enable    the  phonologist    to 
foretell,  and  of  which  the  full  explanation  often  baffles  his 
art.      His  work  is  historical,  not  prescriptive.     He  has  to 
trace  out  the  changes  which  have  actually  taken  place  in  the 
spoken  structure  of  language,  and  to  discover,  so  far  as  he  is 
able,  their  ground,  in  the  physical  character  and  relations  of 
the  sounds  concerned,  in  the  positions   and  motions  of  the 
articulating  organs  by  which  those  sounds  are  produced.    He- 
is  thus  enabled  to  point  out,  in  th^  great  majority  of  cases, 
how  it  is  that  a  certain  sound,  in  tins' or  that  situation,  should 
be  easily  and  naturally  dropped,  or  converted  into  such  and 
such  another  sound.      But  with  this,  for  the  most  part,  he  is 
obliged  to  content  himself;  his  power  to  explain  the  motive 
of  the  change,  why  it  is  made  in  this  word  and  not  in  that, 
why  by  this  community  and  not  by  that  other,  is  rery  limited. 
He  cannot  tell  why  sounds  are  found  in  the  alphabet  of  one 
tongue  which  are  unutterable  by  the  speakers  of  another ; 
why    combinations  which    come  without  difficultA'  from   the 
organs  of  one  people  are  utterly  eschewed  by  its  neighbour 
and  next  of  kin  ;  why,  for  example,  the  Sanskrit  will  tolerate 
no  two  consonants  at  the  end  of  a  word,  the  Greek  no  con- 
sonant but  n,  s,  or  r,  the  Chinese  none  but  a  nasal,  the  Italian 
none  at  all :  why  the  Polynesian  will  form  no  syllable  which 
does  not  end  with  a  vowel,  or  which  begins  with  more  than  one 
consonant,  while  the  Enjilish  will  bear  as  manv  as  six  or  seven 
consonants  about  a  single  vowel  (as  in  splints ,st7'ands ,  twelfth s) ; 
why  the   accent  in  a  Latin  word  has  its  place  always  deter- 
mined by  the  quantity  of  the  syllable  before  the  last,  and  resti 


06  PHONETIC    CHANGE    IN    PART    UNEXPLAINABLE.      [lECT. 

either  upon  that  syllable  or  the  one  that  precedes  it,  while  in 
Greek  it  may  be  given  to  either  of  the  last  three  syllables,  and 
is  only  partially  regulated  by  quantity ;  why,  a^.in,  the  Irish 
and  Bohemian  lay  the  stress  of  voice  invariably  upon  the  first 
gylLable  of  a  word,  and  their  near  relations,  the  Welsh  and 
Polish,  as  invariably  upon  the  penult;  others  still,  like  the 
Kussian  and  Sanskrit,  submitting  it  to  no  restriction  of  place 
whatever.  These,  and  the  thousand  other  not  less  striking 
difierences  of  phonetic  structure  and  custom  which  might 
readily  be  pointed  out,  are  national  traits,  results  of  differences 
of  physical  organization  so  subtile  (if  they  exist  at  all),  of  in- 
fluences of  circumstance  so  recondite,  of  choice  and  habit  sb 
arbitrary  and  capricious,  that  they  will  never  cease  to  elude 
the  search  of  the  investigator.  But  he  will  not,  in  his  per- 
plexity, think  of  ascribing  even  the  most  obscure  and  startling 
changes  of  sound  to  any  other  agency  than  that  which  brings 
about  those  contractions  and  conversions  which  are  most 
obviously  a  relief  to  the  organs  of  articulation  :  it  is  still  the 
speakers  of  language,  and  they  alone,  who  work  over  and 
elaborate  the  Avords  they  utter,  suiting  them  to  their  con- 
venience and  their  caprice.  The  final  reason  to  which  we 
are  brought  in  every  case,  when  historical  and  physical  study 
have  done  their  utmost,  is  but  this :  it  hath  pleased  the  com- 
munity which  used  this  word  to  make  such  an  alteration  in  its 
form ;  a^ud  such  and  such  considerations  and  analogies  show 
the  change  to  be  one  neither  isolated  nor  mysterious. 
Except  in  single  and  exceptional  cases,  there  is  no  such  dif- 
ference of  structure  in  human  mouths  and  throats  that  any 
human  being,  of  whatever  race,  may  not  perfectly  master  the 
pronunciation  of  any  human  language,  belonging  to  whatever 
other  race — provided  ouly  his  teaching  begin  early  enough, 
before  his  organs  have  acquired  by  habit  special  capacities 
and  incapacities.  The  collective  disposition  and  ability  of  a 
community,  working  itself  out  under  the  guidance  of  circum- 
stances, determines  the  phonetic  form  wliich  tlie  common 
tongue  of  the  community  shall  wear.  And  as,  in  the  first 
esfjays  of  any  child  at  speaking,  we  may  note  not  only  natural 
errors  and  ready  sulistitutions  of  one  sound  for  another,  com- 
mcn  to  nearly  all  children,  but  also  one  and  another  peculiar 
conversion,  wliich  seems  the  effect  of  mere  whim,  explainable 


ui.]  Grimm's  law.  97 

by  nothing  but  individiial  caprice,  so  in  tbe  traditional  traDs- 
mission  of  language — wbicli  is  but  tbe  same  process  of  teacb- 
iug  cbildren  to  speak,  carried  out  upon  a  larger  scale — we 
must  look  for  similar  cases  of  arbiti^ary  phonetic  transitions. 

So  important  a  part  of  the  history  of  a  language  are  its 
special  methods  of  phonetic  change,  that,  in  investigating  the 
relations  of  any  dialect  with  its  kindred  dialects,  the  first  step 
is  to  determine  to  what  sounds  in  the  latter  its  own  sounds 
regularly  correspond.  Thus,  on  comparing  Enghsh  and 
German,  we  find  that  a  d  in  the  former  usually  agrees,  not 
with  a  cl,  but  with  a  t,  in  the  latter  ;  as  is  shown  by  dance  and 
tanz,  day  and  tag,  deep  and  tief,  drink  and  trinh,  and  so  on. 
In  like  manner,  the  German  counterpart  of  an  English  ^  is  s 
or  z :  compare /bo?^  imd.fuss,  tin  and  zinn,  to  and  zu,  two  and 
zivei,  and  the  like  ;  and  a  German  d  answers'  to  our  th,  as  in 
die  for  the,  dein  for  thine,  had  for  hath.  "V\  hat  is  yet  more 
extraordinary  is  the  fact  that,  if  we  compare  English  with  the 
older  languages  of  our  family — as  with  Latin,  Greek,  and 
Sanskrit — v/e  discover  the  precise  converse  of  tbis  relation  : 
as  German  t  is  English  d,  so  English  t  is  Latin  d  (compare 
two  and  duo)  ;  as  German  d  is  English  th,  so  English  d  is 
Greek  th,  (compare  door  and  thurti,  daughter  and  thugater)  ; 
as  Gcrmian  s  ov  z  is  English  t,  so  English  th  (the  lisped  letter 
instead  of  the  hissed,  the  spirant  for  the  sibilant)  is  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Sanskrit  t  (compare  three  and  tres,  treis,  tri ; 
that  [xvA-tud,  to,  tad).  In  short,  taking  the  series  of  three 
dental  mutes,  surd,  aspirate,  and  sonant,  t,  th,  and  d,  we  find 
that  the  Germanic  languages  in  general,  including  the  Eng- 
lish, luive  pushed  i^ach  of  them  forward  one  step,  while  the 
High-German  dialects,  chiefly  represented  by  the  literary 
German,  ha.ve  pushed  each  of  them  forward  tw"o  steps. 
Thus,  in  tabular  form  : 


1. 

t 

S. 

tad  (3), 

2. 

th 

E. 

that  (1), 

Gr.  thura, 

3. 

d 

G. 

das  (2). 

£.  door. 

L. 

dent -em   (1), 

1. 

t 

G.   tCr*. 

E. 

tooth         (2), 

2 

th 

G. 

Zand*       (3). 

» 


I  ^ive  here  the  Old  I[io:h-German  forms,  as  illustrating^  the  change  mca* 
diatinctly  and  fully  than  the  corresponding  modern  German  word^. 

7 


98  grimm's  law.  [lect. 

And  a  similar  rule  of  permutation  tolds  good  also  among  the 
consonants  of  the  two  other  series,  the  palatal  and  labial :  A", 
hli,  g ;  p,  ph,  h — the  whole,  with  certain  variations  and  ex- 
ceptions, of  which  we  do  not  need  here  to  take  account.  Thia 
intricate  method  of  correspondence  without  identity  is  gene- 
rally styled,  after  its  discoverer,  "  Grimm's  Law  of  Permuta- 
tion of  Consonants  ;  "*  it  is  a  fact  of  prime  consequence  in. 
the  history  of  the  group  of  languages  to  which  ours  belongs, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  diffi- 
cult phenomena  of  its  class  which  the  linguistic  student  finds 
anywhere  offered  him  for  explanation.  iSor  has  any  satis- 
factory explanation  of  it  been  yet  devised  ;  while,  nevertheless, 
Me  have  no  reason  to  believe  it  of  a  nature  essentially  dif- 
ferent from  other  mutations  of  sound,  of  equally  arbitrary 
appearance,  though  of  less  complication  and  less  range, 
■which  the  history  of  language  everywhere  exhibits.  The 
Armenian,  for  example,  has  converted  its  ancient  surd  mutes 
prevailingly  into  sonants,  and  its  sonants  into  surds  ;  the 
cockney  di'ops  his  initial  A's,  and  aspirates  his  .initial 
vowels  :  neither  of  these,  any  more  than  the  permutation  of 
consonants  in  the  Grermanic  languages,  is  referable  to  a  tend- 
ency toward  ease  of  utterance,  in  any  of  its  ordinary  modes 
.  of  action  ;  yet  no  sound  linguist  would  think  of  doubting  that 
all  the  three  phenomena  are  alike  historical  in  their  nature, 
results  of  the  working  out  of  tendencies  which  existed  and 
operated  in  the  minds  of  those  who  spoke  the  several  lan- 
guages in  which  they  have  made  their  appearance. 

We  need  give  but  a  moment's  attention  to  another  pro- 
cess of  linguistic  change,  whereby  not  letters,  parts  of  words, 
formative  elements,  alone  are  lost,  but  whole  words,  signs  of 
ideas,  disappear  from  among  the  stores  of  expression  of  a 
language.  This,  too,  is  always  and  everywhere  going  on. 
Evidence  of  it  is  to  be  seen  in  the  obsolete  and  obsolescent 
material  found  recorded  on  almost  every  page  of  our  diction- 
aries, and  still  more  abundantly  in  the  monuments  of  our 
literature,  of  periods  to  which  our  dictionaries  do  not  pre 
tend  to  go  back,  among  the  works  of  the  earliest  English 
writers ;  and,  above  all,  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  hterature.  Ai 
•  In  German,  simply  the  LauiccrHchiebung 


III.]  LOSS    OP    WORDS    FROM    USE.  99 

new  tTiouglit  and  knowledge  calls  for  new  words  and  plirases, 
in  order  to  its  expression,  so,  when  old  thought  and  know- 
ledge becomes  antiquated,  is  superseded,  and  loses  its  cur- 
rency, the  words  and  phrases  vdiich  expressed  it,  unless  con- 
verted  to   other   purposes,   must  also  go  out  of  use.      It  is 
sufficient  that  any  constituent  of  language   come  to   appear 
to  those  who  have   been  accustomed  to  use  it  unnecessary 
and  superfluous,  and  they  cease  to  employ  and  transmit  it ; 
and,  as  tradition  and  use  are  the  only  means  by  which  the 
life  of  language  is  kept  up,  it  drops  out  oi\existence  and 
disappears  for  ever — unless,  indeed,  it  be  maintained  in  arti- 
iieial  life  by  the  preservation  of   records  of  the  dialect  in 
which  it  figured,  or  its  mummy,  with  due  account  of  its  his- 
tory and  departed  worth,  be  deposited,  labelled  "  obsolete," 
in   a  dictionary.      In  part,  things  themselves  pass   out  of 
notice  and  remembrance,  and  their  names  along  with  tliem  ; 
in  part,  new  expressions   arise,  win  their  way  to  popular 
favour,  and  crowd  out  their  predecessors  ;  or,  of  two  or  more 
nearly  synonymous  words,  one  acquires  a  special  and  exclu- 
sive currency,  and  assumes  the  office  of  them  -all ;  in  part, 
too,   even  valuable  items  of  expression  fall  into  desuetude, 
from  no  assignable  cause  save  the  carelessness  or  caprice  of 
the  language-users,  and  pass  away,  leaving  a  felt  void  behind 
them.      Of  course,  those  departments  of  a  vocabulary  which 
are  liable  to  most  extensive  and  rapid  change  by  expansion 
are  also  most   exposed  to   loss  of  their   former   substance, 
since  the  growth  of  human  knowledge  consists  not  merely  in 
addition,  but  also  in  the  supersession  and  replacement  of  old 
ideas  by  new :  the  technical  phraseology  of  the  arts,  sciences, 
and  handicrafts  shows  most  obsolete  words,  as  it  shows  most 
new  words;  yet,  in  the  never-ending  adjustment  of  human 
speech  to  human  circumstances  and  needs,  every  part  is  in 
its  own  degree  affected  by  this  kind  of  change,  as  well  as  by 
the  others.      Karely  has  any  cultivated  tongue,  during  a  like 
period  of  its  history,  given  up  more  of  its  ancient  material 
than  did  the  Eno:lish  durino:  the  few  centuries  which  succeed- 
ed  the    Xorman  invasion ;   a  large   portion   of  the   Anglo- 
Saxon  vocabulary  was  abandoned ;    but  this  was   only   the 
natural  effect  of  th(^  intrusion  of  so  many  Norman-French 

7* 


100  CHANGES    OF    SIGNIFICANT  [lECT. 

■words,  an  enrichment  beyond  all  due  measure,  rendering 
necessary  tlie  relinquishment  of  some  part  of  resources  which 
exceeded  the  wants  of  the  community.  If,  upon  the  whole, 
we  have  gained  by  the  exchange,  it  has  not  been  w^ithout 
som.e  regrettable  losses,  of  the  significant  as  well  as  of  the 
formative  elements  of  expression. 

The  processes  which  we  have  thus  examined  and  illustrated 
■ — on  the  one  hand,  the  production  of  new  words  and  forms 
by  the  combination  of  old  materials  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the 
wearing  down,  wearing  out,  and  abandonment  of  the  words 
and  forms  thus  produced,  their  fusion  and  mutilation,  their 
destruction  and  obli\i()ii — iire  the  means  by  which  are  kept 
up  the  life  and  growtli  of  language,  so  far  as  concerns  its 
external  shape  and  substance,  its  sensible  body :  by  their 
joint  and  mutual  action,  greatly  varying  in  rate  and  kind 
among  different  peoples,  at  different  times,  and  under  differ- 
ent circumstances,  spoken  tongues  have  been  from  the  be- 
ginning of  their  history,  and  are  still,  everywhere  becoming 
other  than  they  were.  Yet  they  together  constitute  but  one 
department  of  linguistic  change  ;  another,  affecting  the  iu- 
ternal  content  of  language,  the  meaning  of  its  words,-e(]ually  - 
demands  notice  from  us.  To  this  we  have  not  yet  distinctly  "' 
directed  our  attention,  although  our  illustrations  have  neces- 
sarily set  forth,  to  a  certain  extent,  its  action  and  effects, 
along  with  those  of  the  external  modifications  which  we  have 
been  especially  considering.  It  is  a  part  of  linguistic  his-  ■ 
tory  which,  to  say  the  least,  possesses  not  less  interest  and 
im})ortance  than  the  other.  To  trace  out  the  changes  of 
signification  which  a  word  has  undergone  is  quite  as  essen-  | 
tial  a  pai't  of  the  et}^mologist's  work  as  to  follow  back  ils  " 
changes  of  phonetic  form  ;  and  the  former  are  yet  more  rirh  ^ 
in  striking  and  unexpected  developments,  more  full  of  in- 
struction, than  the  latter :  upon  them  depend  in  no  small 
measure  tlie  historical  results  which  tlie  student  of  language 
aims  at  establishing.  It  may  even  be  claimed  with  a  ceiiaiu 
justice  that  change  and  development  of  meaning  constitute 
the  real  interior  life  of  language,  to  \vhich  the  other  j)ro- 
cesses  only  furnish  an  outward  sup]"!ort.  In  their  details, 
indeed,  the  outer  and  inner  growth  are  to  a  gi*eat  extent  in. 


ni  J  CONTENT    OF-  WORDS,     '  101 

dependent  of  one  anotlaer :  a  word  may  suffer  modification 
of  form  in  any  degree  even  to  the  loss  or  mutation  of  every 
phonetic  element  it  once  contained,  with  no  appreciable 
alteration  of  meaning  (as  in  our  I  for  Anglo-Saxon  ic,  eye 
for  eage)  ;  and,  again,  it  may  be  used^  to  convey  a  totally 
different  meaning  from  that  which  it  formerly  bore,  while 
still  maintaining  its  old  form.  Yet,  upon  the  whole,  the  two 
must  correspond,  and  answer  one  another's  uses.  That 
would  be  but  an  imperfect  and  awkward  language,  all  whose 
expansion  of  significant  content  was  made  without  aid  from 
the  processes  which  generate  new  words  and  forms  ;  and  the 
highest  value  of  external  change  lies  in  its  facilitation  of  in- 
ternal, in  its  office  of  providing  signs  for  new  ideas,  of  ex- 
panding a  vocabulary  and  grammatical  system  into  a  more 
complete  adaptedness  to  their  required  uses.  But  change 
of  meaning  is  a  more  fundamental  and  essential  part  of  lin- 
guistic growth  than  change  of  form.  If,  while  words  grew 
together,  became  fused,  integrated,  abbreviated,  their  signi- 
fication were  incapable  of  variation,  no  phonetic  plasticity 
could  make  of  language  aught  but  a  stiff  dead  structure,  in- 
capable of  continuously  supplying  the  wants  of  a  learning 
and  reasoning  people.  If  for  every  distinct  conception  lan- 
guage were  compelled  to  provide  a  distinct  term.,  if  every 
new  idea  or  modification  of  an  idea  called  imperatively  for  a 
new  word  or  a  modification  of  an  old  one,  the  task  of  lan- 
guage-making would  be  indefinitely  increased  in  difficulty. 
The  case,  however,  is  far  otherwise.  A  wonderful  facility  of 
putting  old  material  to  new  uses  stands  us  in  stead  in  deal- 
ing with  the  intent  as  well  as  the  form  of  our  words.  The 
ideal  content  of  speech  is  even  more  yielding  than  is  its  ex- 
ternal audible  substance  to  the  touch  of  the  moulding  and 
shaping  mind.  In  any  sentence  that  may  be  chosen,  as  we 
shall  find  that  not  one  of  the  words  is  uttered  in  the  same 
manner  as  when  it  was  first  generated,  so  Ave  shall  also  find 
that  not  one  has  the  same  meaning  which  belonged  to  it  at 
the  beginning.  The  phonetists  claim,  with  truth,  that  any 
given  articulated  sound  may,  in  the  history  of  speech,  pass 
over  into  any  other  ;  the  same  may  with  equal  truth  be 
claimed  of  the  ideas  ^gnified  by  words:  there  can  hardly  be 


Kf2  WU^     'w^OKDS. MAY'  CHANGE    THEIR   MEANING.        [lECTL 

two  SO  disconnected  and  unlike  that  they  may  not  derive 
themselves  historically,  throu'j^h  a  succession  of  intermediate 
steps,  from  one  another  or  from  the  same  original.  The 
varieties  of  significant  change  are  as  infinite  as  those  of  pho- 
netic change ;  arid,  as  ia  dealing  with  the  latter,  so  here 
again,  we  must  limit  ourselves  to  pointing  out  and  exempli- 
fying the  leading  principles  and  more  prominent  general 
methods. 

The  fundamental  fact  which  makes  words  to  be  of  change- 
able meaning  is  the  same  to  which  we  have  already  had  to 
refer  as  making  them  of  changeable  form  :  namely,  that  there 
is  no  internal  and  necessary  connection  between  a  word  and 
the  idea  designated  by  it,  that  no  tie  save  a  mental  associa- 
tion binds  the  two  together.  Conventional  usage,  the  mu- 
tual understanding  of  speakers  and  hearers,  allots  to  each 
vocable  its  significance,  and  the  same  authority  which  makes 
is  able  to  change,  and  to  change  as  it  will,  in  whatever  way, 
and  to  w^hatever  extent.  The  only  limit  to  the  power  of 
change  is  that  imposed  by  the  necessity  of  mutual  intelli- 
gibility ;  no  word  may  ever  by  any  one  act  be  so  altered  as  to 
lose  its  identity  as  a  sign,  becoming  unrecognizalde  by  those 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  employ  it.  Ehnnosiini'  is  re- 
ducible to  a'ms,  but  only  through  a  series  of  intermediate 
stages,  of  which  the  German  aJmosen,  the  x\nglo-lSaxon  aJmcs, 
and  our  spelling  alms  are  representatives;  the  change  of  sig- 
nificant content  which  it  has  at  the  same  time  undergone, 
from  '  feeling  of  pity  or  compassion '  to  one  of  the  practical 
results  of  such  a  feeling,  is  comparatively  inconsiderable,  not 
more  than  we  arc  in  the  constant  habit  of  making  at  a  single 
step.  Our  corresponding  word  of  Latin  derivation,  charity, 
while  little  altered  in  form  from  its  original,  caritas,  '  dear- 
ncs.'i,'  has  sufiered  a  much  more  distant  transfer  of  significa- 
tion. Prie.it,  again,  from  the  Greek  j)resbuferos, '  an  older  per- 
son,' has  wandered  from  its  primitive  to  about  equal  distance 
in  form  and  in  meaning;  the  one  departure  taking  place 
under  physical  inducementa,  brought  about  by  an  inijuilso 
to  economize  physical  efiort  on  the  jiart  of  tliose  who  had  to 
utter  the  word;  the  other  accomi)anying  a  historical  cliange 
ill  the  character  and  functions  of  an  official  originally  choeeu 


III.]  PROCESSES   OF    NAMES-GIVING.  lOS 

eimply  as  a  person  of  superior  age  and  experience  to  oversee 
the  concerns  of  a  Chrisstian  community.  These  are  but  or- 
dinary examples  of  the  indefinite  mutability  of  words,  such  as 
might  be  culled  out  of  every  sentence  which  we  speak.  Let 
us  look  at  one  or  two  further  instances,  which  go  back  to  a 
I'cmoter  period  in  the  history  of  speech,  and  illustrate  more 
fully  the  normal  processes  of  word-mxaking. 

The  word  moon,  with  which  are  akin  the  nam.es  for  the 
-^ame  object  in  many  of  the  languages  connected  with  our 
own,  comes  from  a  root  (met)  signifying  'to  measure',  and, 
by  its  etymology,  means  'the  measurer'.^    It  is  plainly  the 
fact — and  one  of   some   interest,  as  indicating  the  ways  of 
thinking  of  our  remote  ancestors — that  the  moon  was  looked 
upon  as  in  a  peculiar  sense  the  measurer  of  time  :  and,  in- 
deed, we  know  that  primitive  nations  generally  have  begun 
reckoning  time   by  moons   or  months  before  arriving  at  a 
distinct  apprehension  of  the  year,  as  an  equally  natural  and 
more  important  period.     Ey  an  exception,  the  Latin  namo 
luna  (abbreviated  from  luc-na)  means  '  the  shining  one.'     In 
both  these  cases  alike,  we  have  an  arbitrary  restriction  and 
special  application  to  a  single  object  of  a  term  properly  bear- 
ing a  general   sense  ;  and  also,  an  arbitrary  selection  of  a 
single  quality  in  a  thing  of  complex  nature  to  be  made  a 
ground  of  designation  for  the  whole  thing.     In  the  world  of 
created  objects  there  are  a  great  many  "measurers",  and  a 
great  many  "shining  ones";  there  are  also  a  great  many 
other  qualities  belonging  to  the  earth's  satellite,  which  have 
just  as  good  a  right  as  these  two  to  be  noticed  in  her  name : 
yet  the  appellation  perfectly  answers  its  purpose ;  no  one, 
for  thousands  of  years,   has  inquired,  save  as  a  matter  of 
learned  curiosity,   what,   after  all,  the  word  moon  properly 
signifies :  for  us  it  designates  our  moon,  and  we  may  observe 
and  study  that  luminary  to  the  end  of  time  without  feeliug 
that  our  increased  knowledge  furnishes  any  reason  for  our 
changing  its  name.     The  words  for  '  sun '  have  nearly  the 
"same  history,   generally  designating  it  as  'the  brilliant  or 
shniing  one',   or  as   'the  enlivener,  quickener,   generator'. 
There   are   hardly   two   other    objects   within    the    ordinary 
range  of  human  observation  more  essentially  unique  than 


104  PROCESSES    OF    NAMES-GIVING.  [lECT. 

the  sun  and  tte  moon,  and  their  titles' were,  as  nearly  as  is 
possible  in  language,  proper  names.     But  such  they   could 
not  continue  to  be.     I\o  constituent  of  language  is  the  ap- 
pellation of  an  individual  existence  or  act ;  each  designates 
a  class ;    and,   even  when   circumstances   seem   to  limit  the 
class  to  one  member,  we  are  ever  on  the  watch  to  extend  its 
bounds.     The  same  tendency  which,  as  already  pointed  out, 
leads  the  child,  when  it  has  learned  the  words  papa  and  sky,  to 
tahe  the  things  designated  by  those  words  as  types  of  classes, 
and  so — rightly  enough  in  principle,  though  wrongly  as  re- 
gards the  customary   use   of  lauguage — to   call  other  men 
papa,   and  to  call  the   ceiling  sJci/,   is  always   active  in  us. 
Copernicus  having  taught  us  that  the  sun  is  the  great  centre 
of  our  system,  that  the  earth  is  not  the  point  about  which 
and  for  which  the   rest  of  the   universe  was   created,   the 
thought  is  at  once  suggested  to  us  that  the  fixed  stars  also 
may  be  centres  of  systems  like  our  own,  and  we  call  them 
siuis.     And  no  sooner  does  Galileo  discover  for  us  the  lesser 
orbs  which  circle  about  Jupiter  and  others  of  our  sister- 
planets,  than,  without  a  scruple,  or  a  suspicion  that  we  are 
doing  anything  unusual  or  illegitimate,  we  style  them  moons. 
Each  word,   too,  has  its  series  of  figurative  and  secondary 
meanings.     "So  many  suns^\  "so  many  moons^\  signify  the 
time  marked  by  so  many  revolutions  of  the  two  luminaries 
respectively ;  in  some  languages  the  word  moon  itself  (as  in 
the  Greek  mm),  in  others,  a  derivative  from  it  (as  the  Latin 
men  sis  and  our  monili),  comes  to  be  the   usual  name  of  the 
period  determined  by  the  wax  and  wane  of  our  satellite — 
and  is  then  transferred  to  designate  those  fixed  and  arbitniry 
subdivisions  of  the  solar  year  to  which  the  natural  system  of 
lunar  months  has  so  generally  been  compelled  to  give  place. 
By  a  figure  of  another  kind,  we  sometimes  call  by  the  name 
Sim   one   who    is  conspicuous  for  brilliancy  and  influence  : 
"  made  glorious  summer  by  this  sun  of  York."      By  yet  an- 
other, but  which  has  now  long  lost  its  character  as  a  figure, 
and  become  plain  and  homely  speech,  we  put  sun  for  si()iU(/ht^ 
sjiying,  "to  walk  out  of  the  sun'\  "to  bask  in  the  i<un'\  and 
^o  on.     In  more  learned  and  technical   phrase,  the  Latin 
name  of  the  moon,  lune,  or  its  diminutive,  lunette,  is  made 


N 


Hi.]  PROCESSES  OF  names-givi^;g.  105 

the  d(;signation  of  various  objects  Laving  a  shape  roughly  re- 
sembling some  one  of  the  moon's  varying  phases.  A  popular 
superstition  connects  wilh  these  last  some  of  the  phenomena 
of  insanity,  and  so  the  siime  word  lune  has  to  signify  also  '  a 
crazy  fit',  while  a  host  of  derivatives — as  lunatic,  lunacy  ;  aa 
vioon-struck,  mooning,  mooner — attest  in  our  common  speech 
the  influence  of  the  same  delusion. 

This  elasticity  of  verbal  signitlcance,  this  indefinite  con- 
tractibility  and  extensibility  of  the  meaning  of  words,  is 
capable  of  the  most  varied  illustration.  Among  all  the 
various  workmen  who  take  rough  materials  and  make  them 
supple  or  smooth,  the  arbitrary  choice  of  our  Germanic 
ancestors,  ages  ago,  designated  the  worker  in  metal  as  the 
one  who  should  be  styled  the  smith.  At  a  much  later  period, 
when  the  convenience  of  a  more  developed  social  condition 
created  a  demand  for  surnames,  certain  individuals  of  this 
respectable  profession  took  from  it  the  cognomen  of  Smith. 
Then,  just  as  the  name5m^Y7^  had  been  divorced  from  its  con- 
nection with  the  more  general  idea  of  smooth,  and  restricted 
to  a  certain  class  of  smoothers,  so  now,  the  name  Smith  was 
cut  loose  from  the  profession,  and  limited  to  these  particular 
individuals  and  their  belongings.  Yet,  as  such,  it  became 
the  nucleus  of  a  new  class- extension,  in  which  the  tie  of  con- 
sanguinity was  substituted  for  that  of  common  occupation ; 
and,  although  all  smiths  are  not  Smiths,  the  Smiths  are 
now  even  more  numerous  than  the  smiths.  Every  proper" 
name,  not  less  than  evei'y  common  noun,  goes  back  thus  to  an 
individual  appellation,  having  a  historical  ground,  and  is 
determined  in  its  farther  application  by  historical  ciiTum-  j 
stances.  Thus,  to  take  a  'more  dignified  example,  the  first 
Caesar  wa^  so  styled  from  some  fact  in  his  life — the  authori- 
ties are  at  issue  from  what  particular  one:  whether  from  his 
unnatural  mode  of  birth  (a  c^so  matris  uiero),  or  from  his 
coming  into  the  world  with  long  hair  (ccesariesj ,  or  from  his 
slaying  a  Mauritanian  elephant  (ccssar  in  Mauri tanian 
speech) .  His  descendants  then  inherited  from  him  the  sam^e 
name,  without  having  to  show  the  same  reason  for  it ;  and 
the  preeminent  greatness  and  power  of  one  among  them 
made  it  a  part  of  the  permanent  title  of  him  who  ruled  th(? 


lOG  CHANGES    OF    SIGNinCANCE    OF    WORDS.  [fiECT. 

Komjin  state,  of  whatever  race  he  mi<^lit  be  ;  while  fr^  m  hore 
it  not  only  passed  to  the  emperor  (kaiser)  of  GeinianT, 
whose  throne  pretends  to  be  the  modern  representative  of 
that  of  Rome,  but  also  to  the  autocrat  (cza>)  of  distant  and 
barbarous  Russia — thus  becoming  the  equivalent  of  'emperor' 
in  two  of  the  most  important  languages  of  modern  Europe. 

These  examples  are  of  themselves  sufficient  to  place  before 
our  eyes  the  most  important  features  in  the  history  of  signi- 
ficant change  of  words,  the  principal  processes  by  which — 
even  apart  from  combination  or  phonetic  change,  but  yet 
more  effectively  in  connection  with  these — the  existing 
vocabulary  of  a  language  is  adaptable  to  the  growing  know- 
ledge and  varying  needs  of  those  who  use  it.  "We  see  that, 
in  finding  a  name  by  which  to  designate  a  new  conception, 
we  may  either  })itch  upon  some  one  of  the  latter^s  attributes, 
inherent  or  accidental,  and  denominate  it  from  that,  limitiug 
and  specializing  for  its  use  an  atti'ibutive  term  of  a  more 
general  meaning ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  we  may  connect  it 
by  a  tie  of  correspondence  or  analogy  with  some  other  con- 
ception already  named,  and  extend  so  as  to  include  it  the 
sphere  of  application  of  the  other's  designation ;  while,  in 
either  case,  we  may  improve  or  modify  to  any  exteiit  our  ap- 
prehension of  the  object  conceived  of,  both  stri]>ping  it  of 
qualities  with  which  we  had  once  invested  it  and  attributing 
to  it  others,  and  may"  thus  pave  the  way  to  the  establishment 
of  new  relations  between  it  and  other  objects,  which  shall  be- 
come fruitful  of  further  changes  in  our  nomenclature.  These 
two,  in  fact — the  restriction  and  specialization  of  general 
terms,  and  the  extension  and  generalization  of  special  terms 
— are  the  two  grand  divisions  under  which  may  be  arranged 
all  the  infinite  varieties  of  the  process  of  names-giving. 
Some  of  these  varieties  and  their  effects,  however,  it  will  bo 
desirable  for  us  to  examine  ajid  illustrate  more  fully,  before 
going  on  to  consider  farther  the  general  character  of  the 
2)rocess,  "We  will  not  attempt  in  our  illustrations  a  strictly 
Bystematic  method,  but  will  take  something  of  the  same  free- 
dom which  linguistic  usage  assumes  in  dealing  with  the 
material  of  speech. 

It  is  obvious  how  vastly  the  resoui'ces  of  a  laii^'uage  for 


ni.J  VARIETY    OF    MEANINGS    OF    A   WORD,  107 

tiie  expression  of  thought  are  increased  hj  attribution  to  the 
same  word  of  different  meanings.  'Not  only  does  a  term  ex- 
change one  well-defined  meaning  for  another,  but  it  acquires! 
new  uses  while  yet  retaining  those  it  formerly  possessed. 
For  example,  board  appears  to  be  originally  connected  with 
broad,  and  to  designate  etj-mologically  that  form  of  timber 
which  is  especially  characterized  by  breadth  rather  than 
thickness.  Here  we  have  the  customary  and  normal  gene- 
sis of  the  name  of  a  specific  thing,  by  restriction  of  a  general 
term  expressing  one  of  its  attributes.  Then  follow  yet  other 
individualizations  and  ti^ansfers.  The  word  is  applied  to  de- 
signate a  table :  on  the  one  hand,  the  table  upon  which  our 
food  is  spread,  and  we  sit  around  the  festive  board ;  whence, 
then,  a  metaphor  makes  it  mean  provision  or  entertainment; 
and  we  seek  bed  and  board,  or  work  for  our  board :  on  the 
other  hand,  the  table  about  which  a  body  of  men  sit  for  the 
transaction  of  business,  and  so,  by  another  metaphor,  those 
who  sit  about  it,  a  constituted  body  of  trustees  or  commis- 
sioners, the  Board  of  Trade,  or  of  Commerce,  or  of  Admiralty. 
Again,  it  is  specifically  used  to  denote  the  plank  covering  of 
a  vessel,  and  generates  in  this  sense  a  new  group  of  phrases, 
like  aboard  and  overboard.  The  paper-maker,  too,  has  his  tech- 
nical uses  for  the  term ;  to  him  it  signifies  the  stifi"cst  and 
thickest,  the  most  board-like,  of  his  fabrics.  Fost  (Latin 
positiii?i,  from  pono,  '  I  j)lace  ')  means  by  derivation  nothing 
more  than  '  put,  placed,  stationed '  ;  all  its  varied  and  diverse 
seuseis — so  diverse  that  we  can  not  only  say  "  as  immovable  as 
a  p^sf',  h\xt  also  "to  travel  ^05^-haste  " — we  developed  out 
of  thia,  along  with  the  historical  growth  of  human  institu- 
tions. The  establishment  of  a  series  of  stations,  posts,  for 
the  trusty  and  rapid  transmission  of  passengers  and  mails 
along  a  road,  leads  finally  to  the  familiar  use  of  such  terms 
as  post-coacli,  post-master,  and  postage.  What  a  cluster  of 
derived  uses  is  gathered  about  the  -word  liead,  as  illustrated 
in  the  phrases  the  head  of  a  pin,  a  head  of  cabbage,  the  head 
of  a  bed,  the  head  of  a  household  or  of  a  sect,  the  head  of  a 
river,  the  heads  of  a  discom-se,  a  head  of  hair,  so  many  head 
of  sheep,  of  one's  own  head,  to  come  to  a  head,  to  make  head! 
Half  the  whole  list  of  figures  of  rhetoric  are  exemplified  in 


108       DIVERGENCE  OP  MEANINGS  UF  A  WORD.      [LIXT    j 

the  hiritory  of  this  one  word.  In  covrt,  the  secondary  signi- 
fications have  almost  effaced  the  primitive,  and,  to  be  clear, 
we  say  rather  the  court-yard  than  the  court  of  a  castle  ;  but 
a  nobleman  of  tlie  court,  a  case  in  court,  the  court  instructa 
the  jnry,  to  pay  court ;  and  the  derivative  words  courtly ^ 
courteous,  a  courtesy,  courtship,  courtier,  courtesan,  all  coming 
from  one  of  the  specific  applications  of  court,  tell  us  of  the 
manners  of  those  who  walk  in  kings'  houses. 

Not  seldom,  the  proper  meaning  of  a  word  is  altogether 

lost,  and  it  diverges  into  others  so  unlike  that  the  common 

apprehension  is  unable  to  connect  them  by  any  tie.     Become 

contains  come,  but  not  to  he,  although  we  may  often  render  il 

by  '  come  to  be  '.    Its  he  is  the  sam.e  with  that  of  hcfall^  heset, 

bemoan,  a  prefix  giving  a  transitive  meaning  to  an  intransitivo 

verb  :  to  hecome  is  originally  '  to  com^e  upon,  to  come  by,  tx> 

obtain,  to  get'.     The  transfer  of  meaning,  from  'obtain  '  tv^ 

*  come  to  be ',  is   a  somewhat  peculiar   one  ;  but  that   it  V3 

natural  enough  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  we  have  gone  on  to 

treat  in  the  same  way  the  equivalent  verb  to  get,  sayii  g  htf 

gets  tired  for  he  hecomes  tired,  and  so  on.      From  the  same 

primitive  sense  of   '  come  upon  ',  we  have  taken  a  step   in 

another  direction  to  '  sit  well  upon,  be  adapted  to,  suit ',  as 

w^hen  we  say  "  such   conduct  does  not   hecome  one  in  high 

station".     To  ti-ace  the  relation  between  these  two  meaniuga 

of  hecome  is  out  of  the  power  of  most  of  those  who  use  them  ; 

even  the  dictionaries  enter  them  as  two  separate  woids.    Not 

much  less  difficult  is  the  connection  of  hind,  'well-disposed, 

friendly  ',  Avith  kind,  '  a  sort  or  species  ' ;  or  of  like,  '  to  te 

fond  of,  with  like,  'resembling' — although  both  are  but  a 

working  out,  in   the  minds  of  the  language-makers,  of  the 

thought  "  a  fellow-feeling   makes  us  wondrous  kind  "  :  the 

idea  of  kindred  or  resemblance 'leading  naturally  to  that  of 

consideration  and  afi'ection.      So,  once  more,  how  second,  '  th.e 

sixtieth  of  a  minute  ',  and  second  as  ordinal  of  tico,  come  to 

be  the   same  word,  would  be  a    puzzle    for    most    English 

speakers  :  the  fact  that  seconds  constitute  the  a^coac?  order  in 

the  sexagesimal  subdivision  of  the  lour  and  of  the   degree 

being  by  no  m.eans  a  conspicuous   one  ;  and  the  act  which 

Btampcd  this  particular  second  order  of  t'ivision  with  the  nam© 


III.]  AMBIiUITY    AND    PRECISIGK    OF    MEANING.  l09 

second  being  not  less  arbitrary  than  that  which  rpplied  the 
same  term — coming,  as  it  does,  from  sequor,  '  I  follow',  and 
so  siQ:nifying  only  '  the  one  next  following  ' — to  designate  the 
ordinal  which  succeeded  the  fiist,  rather  than  any  other  of 
the  series. 

But  it  is  needless  to  multiply  illustrations  of  this  point ; 
every  one  knows  that  it  \s  the  usual  and  normal  character  of 
a  word  to  bear  a  variety",  more  or  less  considerable,  of  mean- 
ings and  applications,  which  often  diverge  so  widely,  and  are 
connected  so  loosely,  that  the  lexicographer's  art  is  severely 
taxed  to  trace  out  the  tie  that  runs  through  them,  and  exhibit 
them  in  their  natural  order  of  development.      Hardly  a  term  I 
that  we  employ  is  not  partially  ambiguous,  covering,  not  a\ 
point,  but  a  somewhat  extended  and  irregular  territory  ofl 
significance  ;  so  that,  in  understanding  what  is  said  to  us,  we  I 
have  to  select,  under  the  guidance  of  the  context,  or  general  i 
requirement  of  the  sense,  the  particular  meaning  intended. 
To  repeat  a  simile  ali^^jidy  o;^e  made  use  of,  each  word  is, 
as  it  were,  a  stroke  of  the  pencil  in  an  outline  sketch  ;  the 
ensemble  is  necessary  to  the  correct  interpretation  of  each. - 
The  art  of  clear  speaking  or  writing  consists  in  so  making  up 
the  picture  that  the  right  meaning  is  surely  suggested  for 
each   part,   and   directly   suggested,  without  requiring   any 
conscious  process  of  deliberation  and  choice.-    The  general 
ambiguit)^  of  speech  is  contended  against  and  sought  to  be 
overcome  in  the  technical  vocabulary  of  every  art  and  science: 
in  chemistry,  for  instance,  in  mineralogy,  in  botany,  by  the 
observation  of  minor  differences,  even  back  to  the  ultimate 
atomic  constitution  of  things,  and  by  the  mxultiplication  and 
nice  distinction  of  terms,  the  classes  under  vrhich  common 
speech  groups  together  the  objects  of  common  life  are  broken 
up,  and  each  substance  and*  quality  is  noted  by  a  name  which 
designates  it,  and  it  alone.     Mental  philosophy  attempts  the 
same  thing  with  regard  to  the  processes  and  cognitions  of  the 
mind;  but  since,  in  matters  of  subjective  apprehension,  it  is  im.- 
practicable  to  bring  the  meaning  of  words  to  a  definite  and 
unmistakable  test,  the  difficulty  of  distiactly  denominating 
one's  ideas,  of  defining  terms,  amounts  to  an  impossibility  :  no 
two  schools  of  metaphysics,  no  two  teachers  even,  agree  pre- 


110  SYNONYMS.  [lECT. 

cisely  in  their  phraseology  ;  nor  can  any  one's  docti-iue  upon 
recondite   Doiiits  be  fully  understood  save  by  those  who  have 
studied  lon^^est  and  most  thoroughly  the  entirety  of  his  syd- 
tem — nor  always  even  by  them. 
,        As  the  significant  changes  of  language  thus  bring  the  same 
t,   word  to  fae  office  of  designating  things  widely  different,  so 
f   they  also  bring  different  words  to  the  office  of  designating  the 
same  or  nearly  the  same  thing.     Thus  the  resources  of  ex- 
pression are  enriched  in  another  Avay,  by  the^  production  of 
synonyms,  names  partly  accordant,    partly    otherwise,    dis- 
tinguishing difterent  shades  and  aspects  of  the  same  gener- 
al idea.   I  will  refer  to  but  a  single  instance.    The  feeling  of 
shrinking  anticipation  of  imminent  danger,  in  its  most  gener- 
al manifestation,  is  called /£-«;• ;  but  for  various  degrees  and 
manifestations  oi  fear  we  have  also  the  names  frif/ lit ,  terror , 
dread,  alarm,  a2^prehension, panic,  tremor,  timiditij ,  fearfuJness, 
and  perhaps  others.      Each  of  these  has  its  own  relations  and 
associations ;  there  is  hardly  a  case  where  any  one  of  them  is 
employed  that  one  or  other  of  the  rest  might  not  be  put  in 
its  place;  and  yet,  there  are  also  situations  where  only  one 
of  them  is  the  best  term  to  use — though  the  selection  can 
only  be  made,  or  appreciated  when  made,  by  those  who  are 
nicest  in  their  treatment  of  language,  and  though  no  one  who 
does  not  possess  unusual  acuteness  and  critical  judgment  can 
duly  describe  and  illustrate  the  special  significance  of  each 
term.      We  are  not  to  suppose,  however,  that  our  synonymy 
covers  all  the  distinctions,  in  this  or  in  any  other  case,  that 
might  be  di-awn,  and  drawn  advantageously.      On  learning 
another  language,  we  may   find  in  its  vocabulary  a  richer 
store  of  expressions  for  the  varieties  of  this  emotion,  or  a 
notation    of   certain    forms    of   it   which   we   do   not    heed. 
Hardly   any  word  in   one  tongue  precisely  fills  the  domain 
appropriated  to  the  word  most  nearly  corresponding  with  it 
in  another,  so  that  the  former  may  be  invariably  translated 
by  the  latter.      The  same  territory   of  significance  is  difter- 
cutly  parcelled  out  in  difterent  tongues  among  the  designa- 
tions which  occupy  it ;  nor  is  it  ever  completely  covered  by 
them    all.      The   varying    shades  of  far  are   practically  in- 
finite, depending  on  difl'erences  of  constitutional  impressi- 


III.]  VARIOUS    FORMS    OF    THE    SAME    WORD.  Ill 

bility  to  sucli  a  feeling,  on  differences  of  character  and  habit 
which  woukl  make  it  lead  to  different  action.  Hence  the 
impossibility  that  one  should  ever  apprehend  with  absolute 
truth  what  another,  even  with  the  nicest  use  of  language, 
endeavours  to  communicate  to  him.  This  incapacity  of  speech 
to  reveal  all  that  the  mind  contains  meets  us  at  every  point. 
The  soul  of  each  man  is  a  mystery  which  no  other  man  can 
fathom :  the  most  perfect  system  of  signs,  the  most  richly 
developed  language,  leads  only  to  a  partial  comprehension, 
a  mutual  intelligence  w^hose  degree  of  completeness  de- 
pends upon  the  nature  of  the  subject  treated,  and  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  hearer  wdth  the  mental  and  moral  character 
of  the  speaker. 

It  not  infrequently  happens  that  a  variation  of  phonetic 
form  comes  in  to  aid  the  variation  of  significant  content  of 
a  word.  That  minute  portion-  of  time  of  which  sixty  make 
an  hour  we  call  minute  (mm-it).  Of  and  q^  are  but  differ- 
ent English  forms  of  the  same  Anglo-Saxon  word,  the  latter 
retaining  the  full  significance  of  the  ancient  preposition,  the 
former  having  acquired  a  greatly  attenuated  and  extended 
sense.  Can  is  a  variety  of  ken,  '  to  know,'  and  means 
etymologically  *  to  know  how  ; '  the  language-makers  had 
observed  that  "  know^ledge  is  powder  "  long  before  it  occurred 
to  Lord  Bacon  to  make  the  remark.  Worked  and  wroughty 
oivned,  owed,  and  onght,  are  identical  in  all  their  constituent 
elements,  however  difterently  understood  and  employed  by 
us.  A  yet  more  notable  diversity,  both  of  form  and  mean- 
ing, has  been  established  between  also  and  as.  Gentle,  gen- 
teel, and  gentile  all  go  back  to  the  Latin  gentilis,  which 
means  simply  '  pertaining  to  a  gois  or  race.'  So  with  legal, 
logal,  and  leal,  so  \\\\i}\  fragile  &ndj'i-ail,  with  secure  sm^sure 
' — of  which  the  former  come  more  directly  from  the  Latin, 
the  other  from  the  corrupted  French  forms.  So,  too,  with 
manoeuvre  and  manure,  corps  and  corpse,  think  and  tJianky 
and  a  host  of  other  words  which  might  readily  be  a^dduced. 

Among  the  examples  already  given,  not  a  few  have  illus- 
trated the  transfer  of  a  word  from  a  physical  to  a  spirit -^al 
significance.  This  method  of  change  is  one  of  such  pro- 
minent importance  in  the  development  of  language  that  it 


y 


112  DERIVATION  OF    SPIRITUAL'  [lECT. 

requires  at  our  hands  a  more  special  treatment.  By  it  has 
been  generated  the  whole  body  of  our  intellectual,  moral, 
and  abstract  vocabulary ;  every  word  and  phrase  of  which 
this  is  composed,  if  we  are  able  to  trace  its  history  back  to 
the  beginning,  can  be  shov\'n  to  have  signified  originally 
something  concrete  and  apprehensible  by  the  senses :  its 
present  use  is  the  result  of  a  figurative  transfer,  founded 
on  the  recognition  of  an  analogy  between  a  physical  and  a 
mental  act  or  product.  Let  us  look,  for  example,  at  a  few 
of  the  terms  which  we  have  just  been  using.  Abstract  is 
'  drawn  off,  dragged  away  ; '  concrete  is  '  grown  together, 
compacted,'  into  something  suhstantial,  as  we  say  ;  that  is, 
something  that  'stands  beneath,'  constitutes  a  foundation. 
Spirit  is  'breath.'  Intellect  comes  from  a  verb  signifying 
*  to  gather  or  select  among,  to  choose  between.'  Ap^yrchend 
signifies  literally  '  to  lay  hold  of,'  and  we  still  use  it  in  that 
sense,  as  when  v.e  say  that  the  officer  apprehends  the  felon  ; 
but  we  much  more  often  apply  it  to  the  laying  hold,  the 
seizing  or  catching,  of  something  set  before  our  minds  to  be 
received ;  and  we  even  speak  of  an  apprehended  calamity, 
as  if  our  anticipations  reached  out  and  laid  hold  upon  that 
which  has  not  yet  come,  and  may  never  come,  upon  us. 
Sympathy  is  good  Greek  for  '  companionship  in  suHering  ; ' 
but  if  we  say  that  two  wounded  men  on  neighbouring  pallets 
sympathize,  we  refer,  not  to  their  physical  distress,  but  to 
that  unselfish  emotional  pain  with  which  every  noble  heart, 
forgetting  so  far  its  own  griefs,  is  touched  at  the  sight  of 
another's.  To  possess  is  '  to  sit  by,  to  beset '  (like  the  Ger- 
man equivalent,  hesifzen).  "When  we  employ  the  phrase  "  I 
propose  to  discuss  an  important  subject,"  of  what  a  medley 
of  metaphors  should  we  be  guilty,  if  we  had  not  forgotten 
the  etymological  meaning  of  the  terms  we  use!  To  propose 
is  '  to  set  in  front '  of  us  ;  to  discuss  is  '  to  shake  to  pieces  ; ' 
a  subject  is  a  thing  *  thrown  under,'  something  brought  under 
our  notice  ;  important  means  '  carrying  within  ' — that  is, 
having  a  content,  not  empty  or  valueless. 

This  subject  admits  of  easiest  and  most  abundant  illustra- 
tion from  the  Latin  side  of  our  language,  because  so  large  a 
ehare  of  our  abstract  phraseology  comes  to  us  from  Latin 


III.]  FROM    PHYSICAL    TERilS.  113 

sources ;  yet  onr  Grermanic  words  are  full  of  the  same  kind 
of  meaning.       One    of   our   commonest    intellectual    terms, 
understand,  is  also  one  presenting  an  exceptionally  bold  and 
difficult  figure  :  as  if  to  '  stand  beneath '  (or  perhaps,  accord- 
ing: to  the  older  meaning^  of  under,  to   '  stand  in  the  midst 
of)  a  thing  were  to  take  sueh  a  position  of  advantage  with 
regard  to  it  that  it  could  not  help  disclosing  to  us  its  secrets. 
Forget  is  the  opposite  sd get,  and  means  to  'fail  to  get,'  or, 
having  gotten,  to  lose  again  from  possession.     In  this  latter 
sense  the  language  seizes  upon  it,  but  arbitrarily  restricts  its 
application  to  a  mental  possession,  and  makes  the  compound 
signify  '  to  lose  from  memory '  only.     I  get  my  lesson,  and 
forget  it  again  ;  but  the  fortune  I  had  once  gotten  I  have  by 
no  n^e^n^  forgotten,  when  an. unlucky  venture  has  made  it 
slip  from  my  hands.      Forgive  has  had  a  somewhat  similar 
history.      It  signifies  primarily  to   '  give  up.'      I  forgive  a 
debt    (in    phrase  now  antiquated)    when   I  magnanimously 
yield  it  up  to   him  by  whom  it  is  due,  waiving  my  claim 
against  him  on  account. of  it:    \ forgive  an  offence  when   in 
like  manner  I  voluntarily  release  the  offender  from  obliga- 
tion to  mnke  amends,  from  liability  to  penalty,  for  it.      It  is 
only  by  wiiat  was  oi'iginally  a  blunder  of  construction  that 
we  now  talk  o^ forgiving  the  off*ender,  as  well  as  the  oifenee 
• — a  blunder  like  that  which  we  liave  made  in  the  treatment 
of  more  than  one  other  word  :  for  instance,  iw please  and  like  ; 
we  said  "  if  you  please,^'  "  if  you  lik'',''  i.  e.  'if  \t  please  you,' 
'  if  it  like  you,'  until  we  forgot  that  the  you  was  object  of 
the  verb  used  impersonally,  and,  apprehending  it  as  subject, 
began  to  say  also  "if  I  please,"  "  if  they  like  ;"   and  again, 
in   reproach,  which  means    strictly  to  '  approach    again,'  to 
bring  up  anew  before  a  person  what  he  would  fain  forget, 
and,  until  its  etymology  was  forgotten,  took  for  direct  object 
the  ofleuce,  and  for  indirect  the  offender  ;   as,  "  I  reproached 
to   my    friend   his   fault."       Befall  is  '  fall  upon  ;'    but,   if 
some   unlucky   person    is    crushed   under  the    ruins   of  his 
dy»elling,  we   speak,  not  of  the   house,  but  only  of  the  acci- 
dent, as  having  befallen  him.      Right  is  '  straight,  direct;' 
wrong  is  '  wrung,  twisted; '  queer  \^  '  crosswise  ' — and  so  on, 
through  the  whole  list  of  words  of  the  same  kind. 


114  ATTE^'UATION    OF   THE  [LBCT. 

There  is  a  large  and  important  class  of  words,  the  history 
of  whose  development  of  meaning  illustrates,  not  so  much 
an  elimination  of  the  physical  element,  a  transfer  from  a 
sensible  to  an  intellectual  use,  as  an  effacement  of  signifi- 
cance, a  fading-out  of  distinctive  colour,  a  withdrawal  of  sub- 
stantiality, a  reduction  to  the  expression  of  relation  rather 
than  of  quality.  Take  as  an  instance  the  preposition  of, 
already  referred  to  as  having  been,  not  long  since,  undis- 
tinguished from  off^  in  either  form  or  meaning.  Off  still 
retains  its  distinct  physical  sense,  of  removal  in  place ;  it 
means  '  from,  away  from,  forth  from ; '  in  of  we  have 
attenuated  this  original  idea  of  removal,  procedure,  derivation, 
into  the  most  general  and  indefinite  one  of  possession, 
appurtenance,  connection:  we  say  the  top  ©/"the  mountain, 
though  the  former  is  not  off^  but  on,  the  latter;  we  say  the 
father  of  the  boy,  as  well  as  the  son  of  the  man ;  we  say  a 
sword  q/"  steel,  pride  of  birth,  the  time  q/"  Moses,  the  city  o^ 
Athens,  and  so  on.  Foi\  from  fore,  '  in  front  of,'  has 
passed  through  a  process  closely  similar.  Also  (A.-S.  eal- 
swa)  was  made  up  of  a/Z  and  so,  and  meant  '  altogether  thus,  in 
just  that  way,  in  like  wise;'  now,  like  the  abbreviated  form 
of  the  last  expression,  likewise,  it  simply  adds  a  circumstance 
coordinate  with  one  already  mentioned ;  it  is  hardly  more 
than  a  particle  of  connection.  As,  as  was  pointed  out 
above,  is  a  mutilated  form  of  the  same  word,  with  its  demon- 
strative meaning  usually  converted  into  a  relative  :  the  act 
of  apprehension  which,  in  a  phrase  like  "  he  is  as  good  as  he 
is  great  "  (that  is,  '  he  is  in  that  degree  or  manner  good  in 
which  degree  he  is  great '),  attributes  a  demonstrative  sense 
to  the  former  as,  and  a  relative  to  the  latter,  is  not  less  arbi- 
trary than  the  one  which  attributes,  in  "  tJie  more,  the 
merrier "  (that  is,  '  in  what  degree  more,  in  that  degree 
merrier'),  a  relative  sense  to  the  former  fJtr,  and  a  demon- 
strative to  the  latter.  All  those  relative  words  which  bind 
the  parts  of  a  sentence  together  into  an  organic  whole, 
instead  of  leaving  it  a  congeries  of  independent  clauses,- are 
of  like  origin,  coming  by  a  gradual  change  of  meaning  from 
words  originally  demonstrative  or  interrogative.  "  1  knew 
that  he  was  ill  "  is  but  an  altered  form  of  "  he  was   ill ;  I 


in.]  MEANING    OF    WORDS.  115 

kiiew  tJiat"  or  "  I  knew  tJiat  thing  :  viz.  he  was  ill ;"  "  we 
saw  the  man  who  dia  it "  represents  "  tulio  did  it  ?  we  sa'W 
the  man,"  or  "  we  saw  the  man  [of  whom  the  inquiry  is 
made]  who  did  it  ?  '*  TJian  is  historically  the  same  word  as 
then  :  "  he  is  mightier  than  I  "  was  once  "  he  is  mightier, 
then  (that  is,  next  after  him)  I."  Or  is  a  contracted  form 
of  other.  The  primary  meaning  of  and  is  ^against;'  the 
simpler  form  of  the  latter,  again,  has  made  at  least  par- 
tially the  same  transition  to  a  connective.  Our  articles  are 
of  quite  modern  development ;  an  or  a  is  the  numeral  one  ; 
the  is  the  demonstrative  that.  AYe  saw  some  time  since  how 
head  has  come  to  stand  for  '  individual;'  the  butcher  talks 
of  "twenty  head  of  sheep,"  as  if  that  part  of  the  animal 
were  not  the  least  valuable  from  his  point  of  view.  Hand 
is  similarly  applied :  "  the  head-carpenter  and  his  twenty 
Jiands,^''  if  it  do  not  describe  one  Briarean  individual,  ought 
at  least  to  designate  only  eleven  persons  ;  but  in  our  usage  it 
denotes  twenty-one.  Even  the  peculiarly  corporal  word  body 
has  been  spiritualized,  in  somehodij,  anybody,  "  if  a  body  meet 
a  body'''  and  so  on :  to  say  "  nobody  was  present "  is  equi- 
valent to  saying  "  not  a  soul  was  there,"  and  would  be  true, 
however  many  corpses,  or  beasts,  or  bodies  metallic,  fluid, 
or  aeriform,  might  have  been  within  cognizance.  The  verb 
grow  signifies  properly  'to  increase,  to  change  from  smaller 
to  larger,'  but  we  often  use  it  in  the  simple  sense  of  gradual 
change,  of  '  becoming,'  and  say  to  grow  thin  or  small,  to  grow 
tired.  By  a  farther  extension  of  the  same  process,  the  verb 
which  in  our  whole  family  of  languages  originally  meant  'to 
grow  '  (Sansk.  bhU,  Greek ^/n7r})  has  in  many  of  them  passed 
through  the  idea  of  '  becoming  '  to  that  of  '  being  '  simply  : 
the  Latin /l^i,  our  be,  been,  are  its  descendants.  Indeed,  our 
substantive  verb  to  be,  the  most  bodiless  and  colourless  of  all 
our  words,  the  mere  copula  between  subject  and  predicate, 
is  made  up  of  the  relics  of  several  verbs  which  once  had  a 
distinct  physical  significance  :  be  and  been,  as  just  noticed, 
contained  the  idea  of  'growing;'  am,  art,  is,  and  are,  that 
of  'sitting;'*    ^vas   and   icere,  that  of  'dwelling,   abiding.' 

*  I  connect,  namely,  the  root  oswith  as,  'sitting,'  as  being  most  probably 
a  different  form  of  the  same  original.  Others  conjecture  the  primitive  sigiii~ 
flcation  to  have  been  that  of  '  breathing.' 


116  FORMATION    OF    PHRASES.  [lECP. 

The  corresponding  verb  in  modern  Erench  is  partly  filled  up 
(e/re,  etais,  etc)  from  the  Latin  stare^  '  to  stand.' 

Not  only  are  certain  words  thus  stripped  by  the  users  and 
makers  of  language  of  the  substantial  meaning  with  which  ^ 
they  once  were  invested,  but  phrases  are  also  formed,  of  two  / 
or  more  words,  and  applied  to  uses  widely  remote  from  those  ( 
which  their  constituents  more  generally  and  properly  sub-  ^ 
serve.  An  event,  we  say,  tahes  place^  or  comes  to  pass ;  a 
young  man  tunis  out  ill ;  his  foibles  are  tellingly  liit  oJf\  or 
taken  off;  though  they  had  seriously  fallen  out,  they  made  tip 
their  quarrel,  and  a  good  understanding  was  hrought  about 
between  them  ;  they  gave  up  further  attempts  ;  at  every  new 
turn,  he  was  headed  q/f  nuev/  ;  I  was  put  up  to  it,  but  woefully 
put  upon,  and  shall  pid  up)  tvith  such  treatment  no  longer ; 
don't  take  on  so,  my  good  fellow — and  so  on  indefinitely. 
Phrases  such  as  these  are  abundant  in  every  part  of  language^ 
and  are  of  every  kind  and  degree  of  removal  from  literalness: 
in  some,  a  moment's  reflection  points  out  the  figure  or  the 
implication  which  has  led  the  way  to  their  establishment  in 
current  use  ;  in  others,  the  transfer  has  been  so  distant,  and 
some  of  its  steps  so  bold  or  so  obscure,  that  even  a  careful 
investigation  fails  fully  to  show  us  how  it  has  been  accom- 
plished. In  phrases_,  as  is  well  known,  consists  no  small 
part  of  the  idiom  of  a  language  ;  use  determines,  not  merely 
the  significance  which  each  word  shall  bear,  but  how  it  shall 
be  combined  with  other  words,  in  order  to  sometliing  more 
than  intelligibility — to  expressiveness,  to  force,  to  elegance 
of  style. 

A-ll  word-making  by  combination,  as  illustrated  in  the  last  i 
lecture,  is  closely  analogous  with  phrase-making:   it  is  but  | 
the  external  and  formal  unification  of  elements  which  usage    > 
has  already  made  one  in  idea.     The  separate  and  distinctive 
meaning  of  the  two  words  in  take  place  is  as  wholly  ignored 
by  us  who  use  tlie  expression  as  is  that  of  tlie  two  in  break- 
/'a.si ;  that  we  may  allow  ourselves  to  say  he  breakfasted,  but 
not   it   takeplaced,   is   only   an   accident ;    it   has   no    deeper 
ground   than   the  arbitrariness  of  conventional  usage.      To 
hit  off'  is  as  much  one  idea  as  doff  (from  do  off),  to  take  0)i  as 
don  (from  do  o?i),  although  we  are  not  likely  ever  to  fuse  the 


III.J  FORM-MAKIXG.  117 

two  former  into  single  words,  like  the  two  latter.  It  is 
clear  that,  as  formerly  claimed,  the  significant  content  of 
words  is  more  plastic  than  their  external  form :  while  our 
language  has  nearly  lost  the  habit,  and  so  the  "  power,"  as 
we  call  it,  of  making  new  vocables  out  of  independent  ele- 
ments, it  is  still  able  to  combine  and  integrate  the  meanings 
of  such  elements,  to  no  small  extent. 

But  again,  all  form-making  includes  as  an  essential  part , 
something  of  the  same  attenuation  of  meaning  of  the  forma- 
tive  element,  the   same  withdrawal  of  its   distinctive  sub- 
stantial significance  and  substitution  of  one  which  is  rela- 
tional and  formal,  which  we-have  been  illustrating  in  the 
history   of  independent  words.     The   Jy  of  gocU^^.komeli/j 
livelj/,  and  so   on,  no   longer  means  '  like ; '   still  less  does 
that  oi  fully,  mostly,  etc.     In  the  sliip  of  lordship,  the  inde- 
pendent word  shape  is  no  more  to  be  recognized  by  its  sig- 
nificance than  by  its  form.     Even  the  ful  of  liealthful  and 
cheerful   has  been   weakened    in    intent   from    'full  of   to 
*  possessed    of,    characterized    by.'       But    there    are    other 
phrases   which   exhibit  a  closer  resemblance  and   more   in- 
timate connection  with  form-making  than  any  hitherto  cited. 
The  d  of  loved,  as  we  have  already  seen,  is  by  origin  the 
imperfect  did;  I  loved  means   etymologically  *  I  did  or  per- 
formed a  loving  ; '  the  d  has  been  converted  from  an  inde- 
pendent word  into  a  formative  element,  indicative  of  past 
action,  by  being   compounded  with   love,  and  then,  in  the 
relation  which  it  sustained  toward  that  word,  losing  its  dis- 
tinctive force  and   meaning,   and  assuming  the  value  of  a 
temporal  modification  merely.     With  the  form  I  loved,  now, 
the  phrase  I  did  love  is  virtually  equivalent :  it  contains  the 
same  elements,  and  they  have  the  same  logical  value :  the 
did  is  there  for  no  other  purpose  than  the  d,  its  hereditary 
representative,   and   is   in  idea,  not  less  than  the  latter,  a 
formative  element ;  it  impresses  a  modification  of  temporal 
form  upon  the  word  with  which  it  is  connected,  and  has  no 
other  oflice.     That  it  still  maintains  its  grammatical  standing 
as  a  separate  word  constitutes  only  a  formal,  not  an  essential, 
distinction  between  the  two  equivalent  expressions.     So  also 
with  the  verb  have,  by  the  aid  of  whi.h  we  form  other  of 


118  ORIGIN    OF    FOUM    WORDS.  [lECT. 

our  past  tenses,  and  of  Avhicli  the  primitive  significance  ia 
'  pof-secsion.'  It  is  easy  to  see  how  "  I  have  my  arma 
stretched  out  "  might  pass  into  "  I  have  stretched  out  my 
arms,"  or  how,  in  such  phrases  as  "  he  has  put  on  his  coat," 
'•  we  have  eaten  our  breakfast,"  "  they  have  finished  their 
work,"  a  declaration  of  possession  of  the  object  in  the  con- 
dition denoted  by  the  participle  should  come  to  be  accepted 
as  sufiiciently  expressing  the  completed  act  of  putting  it 
into  that  condition ;  the  present  possession,  in  fact,  implies 
the  past  action,  and,  if  our  use  of  have  were  limited  to  the 
cases  in  which  such  an  implication  was  apparent,  the  ex- 
pressions in  which  we  used  it  would  be  phrases  only.  A\Tion, 
howe'^^nve  extend  the  implication  of  past  action  to  every 
variety  of  case — as  in  "  I  have  discharged  my  servant,"  "  he 
has  lost  his  breakfast,"  "  we  have  exposed  their  errors," 
where  there  is  no  idea  of  possession  for  it  to  grow  out  of; 
or  with  neuter  verbs,  "  you  have  been  in  error,"  "  he  has 
come  from  London,"  "  they  have  gone  away,"  where  there  is 
even  no  object  for  the  have  to  govern,  where  condition,  and 
not  action,  is  expressed,  and  "you  areheen,""  "  he  25  come," 
"  they  are  gone "  would  be  theoretically  more  correct  (as 
they  are  alone  proper  in  Grerman) — then  we  have  converted 
have  from  an  independent  part  of  speech  into  a  purely 
formative  element.  The  same  word,  by  a  usage  not  less 
bold  and  pregnant,  though  of  less  frequent  occurrence,  we 
make  to  signify  causation  of  action,  as  in  the  phrases  "  I 
will  have  him  well  whipped  for  his  impertinence,"  "  he  has 
his  servant  wake  him  every  morning."  And,  yet  once  more, 
we  turn  it  into  a  sign  of  future  action,  with  further  im- 
plication of  necessity,  as  in  "I  have  to  go  to  him  directly." 
As  is  well  known,  the  modern  European  languages  whirh 
are  descended  from  the  Latin  have  formed  their  simple 
futures  by  means  of  this  phrase,  eliminating  from  it  the  im- 
plication of  necessity:  the  Yre\ni\\  faimerai,  'I  shall  love,' 
for  instance,  is  by  origin  je  aimer  ai,  i.e.  fai  a  aimef',  '  I  have 
to  love.'  ISFor  is  our  own  "  I  shall  love  "  of  diflerent  his- 
tory, for  I  shall  means  properly  '  I  owe,  am  under  obliga- 
tion;' and  the  will  of  "he  will  love,"  although  we  now  so 
commonly  employ  it  as  the  mere  sign  of  futurity,  con^ejM 


III.]  ORIGIN   OF   FORM    WORDS.  119 

the  idea  of  'wish,  intent,  determination.'  The  Anglo-Saxon 
had  no  future  tense,  but  habitually  employed  its  present  in 
the  sense  of  both  present  and  future ;  we  have  struck  out, 
in  our  modern  usage,  a  peculiarly  rich  synonymy  of  ex- 
pressions for  future  action :  there  are  the  two  already  men- 
tioned, I  will  go,  and  I  shall  go,  each  of  which  is  capable  of 
use  as  simple  future,  or  with  a  modal  implication  ;  further, 
I  have  to  go,  with  the  nearly  equivalent  I  am  to  go  ;  I  ant 
going  to  go  (to  which  the  French  adds  the  closely  correlative 
expression  "  I  am  coming  from  going,"  je  viens  d'aller,  that 
is,  'I  have  just  gone')  ;  I  am  on  the  point  of  going,  and  I 
a?n  about  to  go — with  which  is  nearly  allied  the  Hibernicism, 
I  a)n  after  going,  for  '  I  have  gone.'  These  phrases  will 
illustrate  the  ease  with  which  are  found,  in  the  resources  of 
a  rich  and  flexible  language,  means  of  denoting  a  given 
relation,  the  variety  in  which  they  may  be  produced,  and 
the  arbitrariness  with  which  certain  ones  are  selected  for 
most  frequent  and  familiar  employment. 

An  instance  of  a  purely  formal  word  of  a  different  cha- 
racter is  furnished  us  in  the  preposition  to  as  "  sign  of  the 
infinitive."  The  infinitive  is  originally  and  properly  the 
verbal  noun,  and,  as  a  noun,  should  be  governed  by  any 
preposition  which  the  sense  may  require.  The  present  usage 
of  our  language,  however,  forbids  this  freedom  of  construction, 
and  assigns  to  the  infinitive  to  as  its  almost  constant  accom- 
paniment. At  first,  the  to  was  only  empkn'ed  where  it  had 
its  proper  significance,  as  in  phrases  like  "  I  am  here  to  help 
him,"  that  is,  '  in  order  to  the  helping  him,'  "  lawful  for  him 
to  eat,"  that  is,  '  to  the  eating  ; '  *  now,  no  regard  whatever 
is  had  to  this  consideration,  and,  to  the  apprehension  of 
every  speaker  of  English,  to  is  as  arbitrary  and  non-signifi- 
cant a  sign  of  this  form  of  the  verb  as  is  the  endiu":  en  of 
the  Grernian  essen,  or  re  of  the  Latin  edere. 

Yet  another  class  of  words  having  the  grammatical  status 
of  iLdependent  members  of  the   sentence,   but   the  logical 

*  In  Ancclo-Saxon,  Mm  alyfede  to  etanne^  '  allowed  him  unto  eating,' 
the  Anglo-Saxon  putting  t-he  intiiiitive  after  to  into  a  distinct  dative  case, 
but  leaving  it  unintlected  when  the  object  of  a  verb;  as  in  hi  ongu)iHon 
stun,  'they  began  eating,' 


120  VARIETY    OF    DERIVATIVES  [lECT. 

value  of  formative  elements,  is  exemplified  in  the  preposition 
of,  as  already  noticed.  The  of  m.  "a  crown  of  gold"  ig 
equivalent  to  ihe  adjective  suffix  en  in  "a  golde?i  crown;'* 
that  in  "  the  son  of  the  king  "  to  the  genitive  ending  s  in 
*'  the  king'5  son." 

We  have  paid  the  more  attention  to  this  kind  of  words, 
because  of  their  importance  in  the  history  of  language. 
Such  shadowy  and  half-formal  parts  of  speech  as  an  and  the, 
such  quasi  formative  elements  as  do  and  liave,  as  to  and  of  are 
products  of  the  development  of  language  which  by  their 
prevalence  mark  a  distinct  tendency,  known  as  the  "  analyti- 
cal," and  characteristic,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  of  many 
of  the  modern  tongues  with  which  ours  is  related.  AVe 
shall  have  to  take  it  into  further  account  in  connection  with 
another  department  of  our  subject  (see  lecture  seventh). 

Let  us  novv-  look  at  a  single  example  going  to  show  to 
what  a  rich  variety  the  processes  of  development  of  meaning 
may  lead  among  the  derivatives  of  a  single  verb.  I^ono,  in 
Latin,  signifies  '  put,'  or  '  place,'  but  we  might  well  spend  an 
hour  in  tracing  out  all  the  store  of  ideas  which  jt  has  been 
made  in  our  language  tlie  means  of  designating.  Some  of 
its  uses  we  have  inherited  from  the  Latin ;  others  were 
struck  out  during  the  later  period  of  the  French  ;  yet  others 
have  grown  up  on  Ei^glish  soil ;  and  we  are  even  now  far 
from  having  exhausted  its  capabilities  of  expression.  From 
tlie  uncompounded  root  come  ^^o^e,  a  jjoser,  position,  with  its 
many  applications,  ^;>06-/,  with  its  still  more  various  and 
special  uses,  posture,  positive,  and  so  forth.  Then,  as  com- 
bined with  prefixes,  for  the  most  part  significant  merely  of 
place  and  direction,  it  gives  us  an  apposite  remark ;  ajwosi- 
tion  of  nouns  ;  component  parts  ;  composure  of  mind  ;  a  great 
composer;  compositions  and  declamations  ;  a  composiyig-'Btiok  ; 
com2)0st-\\Q^\)'& ;  compound  interest ;  to  compound  a  felony  ;  a 
deponent  verb  ;  the  depo)ient  saith  ;  a  deposed  king  ;  deposi- 
tions from  water;  a  school-book  depositor!/;  removal  of  the 
deposits;  a  railway  depot ;  an  exponent  of  democratic  princi- 
ples ;  to  eapose  a  fraud ;  exposed  to  attack  ;  clear  cdposilion 
of  a  liard  text ;  a  lawn  with  southern  exposure;  an  imposing 
figure;  i7nposts  and  customs;  iniHcrahle  impostor ;  consecrated 


in.]  FROM   A   SINGLE   ROOT.  121 

by  imposifivn  of  hands  ;  to  impound  stray  cattle  ;  an  imposing- 
stone  ;  all  his  disposable  forces  ;  disposed  to  sleep  ;  an  amiable 
disposition ;  the  prima  donna  is  indisposed;  troops  disposed 
in  three  lines  ;  Grod  disposes;  a  worthy  opponent;  the  house 
opposite;  member  of  the  opposition;  divine  interposition  ;  hf» 
proposed  to  her  ;  fifth  proposition,  first  book  ;  propounded  for 
admission ;  locked  in  sweet  repose ;  to  repose  confidence ; 
what  do  you  purpose  ?  he  did  it  on  purpose  ;  an  effect  sup- 
poses a  cause ;  at  least,  I  suppose  so ;  a  supposititious  heir ; 
and  so  on.  Here  is  but  a  selection  from  among  the  multi- 
tude of  expressions  for  heterogeneous  conceptions  which 
have  grown  out  of  the  sign  for  the  simple  idea  of  '  putting ' 
or  '  placing ; '  but,  though  a  striking,  they  are  not  an  ex- 
ceptional instance  of  the  manner  in  which  linguistic  usage 
deals  v.'ith  all  the  material  of  language.  As  new  experiences 
are  met  with,  new  deductions  drawn,  new  opinions  formed, 
new  m.ental  combinations  made,  new  products  brought  forth, 
new  existences  discovered,  language  finds  no  difficulty  in 
enlarging  itself  to  represent  them.  The  material  which  lies 
most  conveniently  at  hand,  even  if  it  be  not  very  near,  is 
seized  and  applied  to  the  purpose :  that  which  was  general 
is  individualized  ;  that  which  was  individual  is  generalized ; 
the  concrete  becomes  the  abstract ;  every  variety  of  meta- 
phor, of  elliptical  and  pregnant  expression,  is  resorted  to,  and, 
however  bold  and  even  startling  at  first,  sinks  by  degrees  to 
the  level  of  ordinary  prosaic  appellation  ;  and  delicate  shades 
of  meaning  are  distinguished  by  the  gradual  separation  of 
words  at  first  equivalent.  The  midtiplicity  of  these  changes, 
and  the  variety  of  their  results,  our  examples  have  been 
wholly  inadequate  to  set  forth  with  any  fulness  or  com- 
pleteness ;  only  enough  has  been  said  to  bring  to  ligl\i  the 
leading  facts  and  principles,  to  shov/  what  a  fertile  power  of 
modification  and  adaptation  is  inherent  in  our  speech,  and 
that,  in  seeking  and  finding  names  for  individual  objects  of 
co7iception,  it  is  restrained  within  no  narrow  limits  of  action. 
It  must  not  fail  to  be  observed  that  these  processes  of 
word-making,  of  names-giving,  in  all  their  variety,  are  not, 
in  the  fullest  sense,  consciously  performed:  that  is  to  say, 
they  are  not,  for  the  most  part,  premeditated  and  reflective. 


122  DEGREES    OF    CONSCIOUSNESS  IN    THE  [LEOT. 

There  may  be  found  among  them,  indeed,  every  degree  of 
reflection,    sometimes    rising   even    to    full     premeditation. 
"When  there  is  first  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  a  com- 
munity some  new  substance  or  product,  either  natural  or 
artificial,  some  result  of  invention  or  discovery,  some  process 
formerly    unknown,    people     ask    themselves     deliberately 
"  what  ^>hall  we  call  it  ?  "  and   it   is  by  a  conscious    efi*ort 
that  they  devise  and  assign  its  appellation — there  being,  at 
the  same  time,  an  unconscious  part  to  the  process ;  namely, 
the    manner   in  which   their    selection    is    guided  and   de- 
termined by  the  already  subsisting  usages  and  analogies  of 
their  speech,  and  by  the  limitations  of  their  intelligence. 
The  zoologist,  the  chemist,  the  geologist,  when  they  want 
a  new  technical  term  or  distinctive  name,  go  of  set  purpose 
to  such  sources   as  their   Greek  and   Latin  dictionaries,  or 
search   out    local   or  personal  associations    upon   which  to 
found  their  choice  ;  they  con  over  the  various   distinctive 
qualities  or  accidental  circumstances  of  the  thing  to  be  de- 
nominated, and  weigh   the  capabilities   and  advisabilities  of 
the  case  as   deliberately  as   does  the  father  when  deciding 
after  which  rich  uncle,  or  what  noted  public  character,  he 
Bhall  have  his  son  christened.     Sometimes  the  scientific  man 
has  put  upon  him  the  task   of  devising  a  terminology,  as 
well  as  a  nomenclature — as  was  the  case  with  those  French 
chemists,   at  the   end   of   the  last  century,  who   fixed   the 
pr^icise   scientific  meaning  to  be  thenceforth  signified  by  a 
whole  apparatus  of  formative  elements,  of  sufiixes  and  pre- 
fixes:  for  example,  in  siilplntret,  sulphuric,   si/Iphiirous,  stth 
phate,  sulphite,  sulphide,  hisiclphafe,  sesquisuJphide,  and  so. on. 
This  is,  indeed,  of  the  nature  of  an  artificial  universal  lan- 
guage, built  up   of  precise,   sharply   distinguished,   and  in- 
j  variably  regular  signs  for  the  relations  of  ideas — such  a  lan- 
(  guage  as  some  have  vainly  imagined  it^jw^sible  to  invent  and 
I  teach  for  all  the   infinitely  varied  needs  of  speech,  and  for 
i  the  use  of  the  whole  human  race :  the  chemical  terminology 
I  is,  in   its    own    sphere,   of   universal    applicability,   and    is 
adopted  by  chemists  of  various  race  and  native  tongue.    But 
human  language  is  not  made  in  this  way.      The  most   im- 
portant and  intimate  part  of  linguistic  growth,  that  which 


41;',]  PROCESSES    OF    WORP-MAKING.  123 

affects  tlie  Yocabulaiy  of  general  and  daily  use,  learned  by 
every  child,  used  in  tlie  common  intercoui-se  of  life,  goes 
on  in  a  covert  and  unacknowledged  manner  ;  it  is  almost 
insensibly  slow  in  its  progress ;  it  is  the  effect  of  a  gradual 
accumulation  of  knowledge  and  quickening  of  insight  ;  it  is 
wrought  out,  as  it  were,  item  by  itefii,  from  the  mass  of  the 
already  subsisting  resources  of  expression  :  the  mind,  familiar 
with  a  certain  use  of  a  term,  sees  and  improves  a  possibility 
of  its  extension,  or  modification,  or  nicer  definition  ;  old 
ideas,  long  put  side  by  side  and  compared,  prompt  a  new 
one  ;  deductions  hitherto  unperceived  are  drawn  from 
premises  already  known  ;  a  distinction  is  sharpened ;  a 
conception  is  invested  wdth  novel  associations ;  experience 
suggests  a  new  complex  of  ideas  as  calling  for  conjoint  ex- 
pression. Speech  is  the  work  of  the  mind  coming  to  a 
clearer  consciousness  of  its  own  conceptions  and  of* their 
combinations  and  relations,  and  is  at  the  same  time  the 
means  by  which  that  clearer  consciousness  is  attained  ;|  and 
hence,  it  works  its  own  progress  ;  its  use  teaches  its  im- 
provement ;  practice  in  the  manipulation  of  ideas  as  repre- 
sented by  words  leads  the  w^ay  to  their  more  adroit  and 
effective  management.  A  vocabulary,  even  while  undergo- 
ing no  extension  in  substantial  content  of  words  and  forms, 
may  grow  indefinitely  in  expressiveness,  becoming  filled  up 
with  new  senses,  its  words  and  phrases  made  pregnant  with 
deeper  and  more  varied  significance.  It  may  do  so,  and  it 
will,  if  there  lie  in  the  nature  and  circumstances  of  the 
people  W'ho  speak  it  a  capacity  for  such  growth.  The  speech 
of  a  community  is  the  reflex  of  its  average  and  collective 
capacity,  because,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  community 
alone  is  able  to  make  and  change  language  ;  nothing  can 
become  a  part  of  the  common  treasure  of  expression  which  is 
not  generally  apprehended^  approved,  and  accepted.  It  is  not 
true,  as  is  sometimes  taught  or  implied,  that  a  genius  or 
commanding  intellect,  arising  among  a  people,  can  impress  a 
marked  effect  upon  its  language — least  of  all,  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  linguistic  development,  or  amid  ruder  and  more 
primitive  conditions  of  culture.  'No  individual  can  affect 
speech  directly  except  by  separate  items  of  change  in  respect 


124  FORM-MAKIXG    UNREFLECTIVE.  [lECT. 

to  whicli  he  sets  an  example  for  others  to  follo"W  and  an 
example  which  will  be  followed  in  proportion  as  the  changes 
are  accordant  with  already  prevailing  usage  and  naturally 
suggested  by  it :  the  general  structure  and  character  of  lan- 
guage are  out  of  his  reach,  save  as  he  can  raise  the  common 
intellect,  and  quicken  and  fertilize  the  minds  of  his  fellows, 
thus  sowing  seed  which  may  spring  up  and  bear  fruit  in 
language  also.  If  he  attempt  anything  like  innovation,  the 
conservatism  of  the  community  will  array  itself  against  him 
with  a  force  of  resistance  against  which  he  will  be  power- 
less. The  commanding  intellect  has  much  the  better 
opportunity  to  act  effectively  in  a  cultivated  and  lettered 
people,  inasmuch  as  his  inciting  and  lifting  influence  can  be 
immediately  exerted  upon  so  many  more  of  his  fellows,  and 
even  upon  more  than  one  generation. 

Especially  is  it  true  that  all  form-making  is  accomplished 
by  a  gradual  and  unreflective  process.  It  is  impossible  to 
suppose,  for  instance,  that,  in  converting  the  adjective  like 
into  the  adverbial  suilix  lij,  there  was  anything  like  inten- 
tion or  premeditation,  any  looking  forward,  even,  to  the  final 
result.  One  step  simply  prepared  the  way  for  and  led  to 
another.  We  can  trace  the  successive  stages  of  the  transfer, 
but  we  cannot  see  the  historical  conditions  and  linguistic 
habits  which  facilitated  it,  or  tell  why,  .among  all  the 
Germanic  races,  the  English  alone  should  have  given  the 
suffix  this  peculiar  application  ;  Avhy  the  others  content 
themselves  without  any  distinctive  adverljial  suffix,  nor  feel 
that  their  modes  of  expressing  the  adverbial  relation  are  less 
clear  and  forcible  than  ours.  And  so  in  every  other  like  case. 
An  aptitude  in  handling  the  elements  of  speech,  a  capacity 
to  perceive  how  the  resources  of  expression  can  be  applied 
to  formative  uses,  a  tendency  toward  the  distinct  indication 
of  formal  relations  rather  than  their  implication  merely — 
these,  in  their  natural  and  unconscious  workings,  constitute 
the  force  which  produces  grammatical  forms,  which  builds 
up,  piece  by  piece,  a  grammatical  system,  more  or  less  full 
and  complete.  Every  language  is  the  product  and  expres- 
sion of  the  capacities  and  tendencies  of  a  race  as  bearing 
upon  the  specific  work  of  language-making ;  it   illustratea 


III.]  COXCEPTIOXS    AXTECEDEXT    TO   THEIR    NAMES.  125 

what  they  could  do  in  this  particular  walk  of  human  eifort ; 
and  the  variety  of  product  shows  the  difference  of  human 
endowment  in  this  regard,  even  more  strikingly  than  the 
variety  of  the  art-products  of  different  peoples  exhibits  their 
diverse  grade  and  kind  of  artistic  power  to  conceive  and 
execute. 

For,  as  has  been  already  pointed  out,  and  must  here  again 
be  insisted  on,  every  single  act  in  the  whole  process  of  mak- 
ing words  and  forming  language,  at  every  period  of  linguistic 
development,  has  been  a  human  act.  Whether  more  or  less 
deliberately  performed,  it  was  always  essentially  of  the  same 
kind;  it  w^as  something  brought  about  by  the  free  action  of 
men.  Its  reasons  lay  in  human  circumstances,  were  felt  in 
human  minds,  and  prompted  human  organs  to  effort.  No 
name  was  ever  given  save  as  a  man  or  men  apprehended 
some  conception  as  calling  for  expression,  and  expressed  it. 
Every  idea  had  its  distinct  existence  before  it  received  its 
distinctive  sign ;  the  thought  is  anterior  to  the  language 
by  which  it  is  represented.  To  maintain  the  opposite,  to 
hold  that  the  sign  exists  before  the  thing  signified,  or  that 
a  conception  cannot  be  entertained  without  the  support  of  a 
word,  would  be  the  sheerest  folly  ;  it  would  compel  us  to 
assert  that  galvanism  could  not  be  recognized  as  a  new  form 
of  -natural  force,  hitherto  undescribed,  until  its  discoverers 
had  decided  what  to  style  it ;  that  IS^eptune  was  not  visible 
in  the  astronomer's  glass  till  it  had  been  determined  after 
which  of  the  Grecian  divinities  it  should  be  christened  ;  that 
the  spinner's  mule  SindjeunT/  were  not  built  till  the  inventor 
had  chosen  a  name  for  them ;  that  the  aniline  colours  made 
upon  the  eye  no  impressions  distinguishable  from  those  of 
hues  long  familiar  until  the  battle-fields  had  been  pitched 
upon  whose  names  they  should  bear ;  that  the  community 
had  no  appreciation  of  the  frequent  tediousness  and  imper- 
tinence of  ofiicial  forms  until  they  had  agreed  to  call  it  red 
tape ;  that  the  human  race  did  not  see  that  the  colour  of 
growing  things  like  leaves  and  grass  was  different  from  those 
of  the  clear  sky,  of  blood,  of  earth,  of  snow,  until,  from  the 
name  for  growing,  they  had  worked  out  for  it  a  name  green^ 
as  well  as,  by   some    similar  process,  like    names  for    the 


126  REASONS    OF    ETYMOLOGY   FOrNDED  [lECT. 

others.     Men  do  not  laj  up  in   store   a  list  of  ideas,  to  be. 
provided  with  spoken  signs  when  some  convenient  season! 
shall  come;  nor  do  they  prepare  a  catalogue  of  words,  to\ 
which  ideas  shall  be  attached  when  found:   when  the  thing  \ 
is  perceived,  the  idea  conceived,  they  find  in  the  existing  \ 
resources  of  speech  the  means  of   its  exi)ression — a  name     » 
which  formerly  belonged    to  something  else    in  some  way 
akin  with  it ;  a  combination  of  words,  a  phrase,  which  per- 
haps remains  a  phrase,  perhaps  is  fused  into,  or  replaced  by, 
a  single  word.     Thus,  for  example,  men  were  proposed  in 
ancient  liome  for  the  free  suffrages  of  their  fellow-citizens, 
and    were,  without  difficulty,  variously  described  as   such, 
before  any  distinctive  appellation  for   one  in  such   a  plight 
had  been  established  ;  but  the  fortuitous  circumstance  that 
Roman  usage  required  those  who  were  openly  seeking  office 
to  be  candicLitos,  '  dressed  in  white  (candidus) ,'  led  by  degrees 
to    their   designation,  pregnantly,   as   candidati ;    and    now, 
through  nearly  the  whole  civilized  world,  he  who  aspires   to 
election   or  selection   to   any   place  or   station  is   styled  a 
candidate. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  reason  why  anything  is  called  as  we  are 
accustomed  to  call  it  is  a  historical  reason  ;  it  amounts  to 
this :  that,  at  some  time  in  the  past^^either  when  the  thing 
T^^as  first  apprehended,  or  at  some  later  period — it  was  con- 
venient for  men  to  apply  to  it  this  name.  And  the  principal 
item  in  this  convenience  was,  that  certain  other  things  were 
already  named  so  and  so.  Until  we  arrive  at  the  very 
beginnings  of  sjieech  (the  character  and  origin  of  which  must 
be  reserved  for  discussion  at  a  later  period  of  these  lectures), 
every  name  comes,  by  combination,  derivation,  or  simple 
transfer  of  meaning,  from  some  other  name  or  names  :  men 
do  not  create  new  words  out  of  hand ;  they  construct  them 
of  old  material.  At  the  time  and  under  the  circumstances, 
then,  when  each  term  acquired  its  given  significance,  the 
possession  of  certain  other  resources  of  expression,  combined 
with  certain  usages  of  speech  and  habits  of  thought,  and 
iniluenced  by  external  circumstances,  caused  men's  clioice  to 
fall  np'in  it  rather  tlian  upon  any  otlier  combination  of 
Bounds.     Thus  every  word  has  its  etymology  or  derivation. 


ni.]  IN   CONVENIENCE,   NOT   NECESSITY.  127 

and  to  trace  out  its  etymology  is  to  follow  up  and  exhibit  its 
transfers  of  meaning  and  clianges  of  form,  as  far  back  and  aa 
completely  as  the  nature  of  the  case  allows.  To  recur  to 
our  last  example — candidate  is  the  modern  abbreviated  form 
of  caddidatus,  participle  of  the  (implied)  Latin  derivative 
verb  candidare,  '  to  whiten,'  from  candidus,  '  white  ;  '  and  the 
historical  circumstance  which  suggested  its  selection  and 
application  to  its  purpose  has  been  pointed  out.  Candidus 
is  itself  a  derivative  adjective,  coming  from  the  verb  carideo, 
v.hich  means  '  to  shimmer,  to  shine  ; '  it  designates  properly  a 
glittering  or  sheeny  white.  We  have  this  also  in  our  lan- 
guage, little  altered  in  form,  as  the  word  candid ;  but,  though 
it  may  be  found  here  and  there  in  old  authors  employed  in 
its  sensible,  physical  signification  of  '  white,'  it  has  in  our 
ordinary  use  been  transferred,  by  a  figure  of  which  every  one 
appreciates  the  naturalness,  to  indicate  a  mental  quality, 
freedom  from  bias  or  prejudice,  from  dissimulation,  from 
deceit — those  dark  shades  and  spots  on  a  character.  Few 
of  us  ever  think  of  a  connection  of  idea  between  candid  and 
candidate ;  and  the  less,  as  the  position  indicated  by  the 
latter  word  is  by  no  means  favourable  to  the  development  of 
the  virtue  expressed  by  the  former.  The  verb  candeo  we  are 
able  to  trace  one  or  two  steps  farther  back,  through  caneo  and 
canus,  to  a  root  can,  which  signifies  '  shining;'  this,  to  our 
analysis,  is  an  ultimate  fact,  beyond  which  we  can7_"iot  at 
present  penetrate. 

But,  while  words  thus  have  their  historical  grounds,  while 
the  etymologist  can  explain  how  they  came  to  receive  the 
value  which  we  attribute  to  them,  we  must  beware  of  ascrib- 
ing too  cogent  or  too  permanent  a  force  to  the  etymological 
reason.  It  was  not  a  necessary  reason  ;  there  was.  no 
element  of  compulsion  in  it.  The  Homan  seeker  for  ofl[ice 
might  just  as  well  have  gotten  some  such  name  as  proponent, 
'  proposer,'  or  petent,  '  seeker,'  as  the  one  by  which  he  actu- 
ally came  to  be  called ;  either  of  these,  it  may  be  claimed,  ia 
more  truly  significant  than  candidate,  which  expresses  only  a 
fortuitous  circumstance  of  external  garb,  and  was  applicable 
to  any  one  who  should  choose  to  wear  a  white  dress.  All 
that  can  be  said  in  reply  is  that  the  Komans  vvcre  in  fact 


128  ETIMOLOGICAL    KNOWLEDGE    OF    NO   ACCOUNT       [lECT. 

guided  by  the  fortuitous  rather  than  the  more  significant 
oircuniBtance  to  their  selection  of  a  name.  So,  also,  the  Latin 
word  alhus  or  the  Germanic  word  icJiite  might  have  been  not 
less  readily  than  candidus  applied  to  designate  the  pos- 
session of  candour ;  only  the  language-makers,  for  reasoua 
which  tliey  themselves  could  not  have  explained,  willed  it 
otherwise.  Among  the  various  metaphors  by  which  such  a 
quality  was  signifiable  and  from  time  to  time  signified,  this 
chanced  to  be  the  one  which  established  itself  in  frequent 
use,  and  of  which  the  metaphorical  origin  was  by  degrees  for- 
gotten. From  among  many  possible  expedients,  it  was  the 
one  pitched  upon  for  filling  this  special  need,  for  increasing 
in  this  direction  the  resources  of  expression.  And  then, 
when  the  expedient  is  once  found,  when  the  name  is  accepted 
by  the  community  and  installed  in  its  office,  the  etymological 
reason  becomes  no  longer  operative ;  the  sole  and  sufficient 
authority  for  the  use  of  the  term  is  the  common  assent  and 
custom.  Individuals  do  not  go  on  indefinitely  to  repeat  the 
act  of  transfer  vvhich  first  allotted  a  word  to  its  use ;  they 
establish  a  direct  mental  association  between  the  idea  and 
the  sign,  and  depend  upon  that.  As  was  pointed  out  in  the 
first  lecture  (p.  14),  the  child  does  not  concern  himself  with 
questions  of  etymology  when  learning  to  talk  ;  the  words 
which  he  acquires  he  receives  and  employs  implicitly,  for  tho 
sole  leason  that  those  about  him  employ  them.  As  he  grows 
older,  he  will,  in  varying  degree,  according  to  his  turn  of 
mind,  his  general  culture,  and  his  particular  education,  turn 
his  attention  to  etymological  inquiries;  and  please  himself 
with  tracing  out  why  the  words  which  he  has  learned  or 
learns  were  elected  to  the  office  in  which  they  serve  him. 
But  it  is  always  a  matter  of  reflection,  of  learned  curiosity ; 
it  concerns,  not  the  general  users  of  speech,  but  him  who 
would  study  its  history.  To  the  greatest  etymologist  who 
lives,  not  less  than  to  the  most  ignorant  and  unrefiective 
speaker,  the  reason  why  he  calls  a  certain  idea  by  a  certain 
name  is  siui})ly  that  the  comnumity  in  whicli  he  lives  so  call 
it,  and  will  understand  him  when  he  does  the  same.  It  is 
quite  worth  while  to  know  how  candidate  and  candid  came  to 
mean  as  they  do  j  but  our  knowledge  or  our  ignorance  of  their 


III.]  IN    THE    PRACTICAL    USE    OF    WORDS.  120 

etymolLgT  does  not  detennliie  our  use  and  understanding  of 
tlie  terms.  It  is,  no  doubt,  an  interesting  and  valuable  bit 
of  information  for  tlie  physicist  that  galvanism  Avas  named 
after  its  first  discoverer  ;  the  fact  is  one  of  which  no  student, 
no  well-informed  man  even,  shoLihl  be  ignorant ;  but  one  may 
use  the  v»ord  galvanism  as  well  for  all  practical  purposes 
without  ever  having  heard  of  G-aivani ;  and  thousands  do  it 
every  day.  How  few  of  those  who  talk  about  eleciricity  are 
aware  that  it  signifies  by  derivation  '  the  quality  of  being  like 
amber  (Greek,  eleJctron),^  and  has  no  better  ground  than  the 
accidental  circumstance  that  the  first  recognized  manifest- 
ation of  this  potent  force  was  the  power  of  attracting  light 
objects  exhibited  by  apiece  of  amber  when  rubbed?  And  as 
to  the  etymological  reason  of  elehtron  itself,  as  Greek  de- 
signation of  '  amber,'  it  is  irrecoverably  lost.  It  is,  however, 
far  from  being  at  our  option  to  declare  the  etymology  of 
electricitg  a  paltry  and  insufficient  one,  and  to  resolve  that 
we  will  have  a  name  which  shall  denote  some  more  essential 
quality  of  the  force,  and  of  which  we  can  trace  the  history 
back  to  the  very  beginning ;  he  would  be  laughed  at  for  a 
fool  who  should  attempt  such  a  revolution  ;  a  designation  in 
the  use  of  which  the  community  are  agreed  is  good  enough, 
for  any  one  :  it  requires  no  other  sanction.  If  the  case  Avere 
otherwise,  if  the  right  to  use  a  word  depended  in  any  man- 
ner on  its  etymology,  then  every  human  being  would  have  to 
be  an  etymologist,  prepared  to  render  a  reason,  when  called 
upon,  for  everything  he  utters.  But,  in  fact,  only  the  most 
skilled  and  practised  student  of  his  native  tongue  can  explain 
the  history  of  any  considerable  part  of  its  vocabulary ;  and 
even  his  researches  are  apt  to  carry  him  back  through  no 
more  than  the  latest  stages  of  its  growth  :  the  ultimate  facts  . 
are  out  of  his  reach. 

AYe  study,  then,  the  history  of  words,  not  in  order  to  assure 
ourselves  of  our  right  to  employ  them  as  we  do,  but  to  satisfy 
a  natural  curiosity  respecting  the  familiar  and  indispensable 
means   of  our  daily  intercourse,  and  to  learn  something  of  i 
the  circumstances  and   character   of  those  who   established  ( 
them  in  use.      It  is  because  every  act  of  word-making  is  a  | 
historical  act,  the  work  of  human  minds  under  the  guidance 

9 


130  EXAMPLES    OF  [LECT, 

of  human  circumstances,  that  the  investigation  of  lantjjuage; 
IS  an  inquiry  into  the  internal  and  external  history  of  menj 
The  results  of  such  investigation  are  of  the  most  varied 
character.  Sometimes  we  find  at  the  basis  of  a  word  a  mere 
blunder  of  philosophy,  as  when  we  talk  about  lunatics,  as  if 
we  still  believed  the  aberration  of  their  wits  to  depend  upon 
the  devious  motions  of  the  moon  (Jiina)  ;  or  a  blunder  of 
natural  history,  as  when  w^e  call  our  own  native  American 
feathered  biped  a  turkey,  in  servile  imitation  of  that  ill- 
informed  generation  of  Englishmen,  which,  not  knowing 
whence  he  came,  but  surmising  that  it  might  probably  enough 
be  Turkey,  dubbed  him  "  the  Turkey  fowl ;  "  or  a  blunder  of 
geography,  as  when  we  style  our  aborigines  Indians,  because 
the  early  discoverers  of  this  continent  set  their  faces  west- 
ward from  Europe  to  find  India,  and  thought  at  first  tha^t 
they  had  found  it.  Copper,  the  magnet,  parchment  commem- 
orate for  us  the  countries  Cyprus,  Magnesia,  and  Pergamos, 
whence  those  substances  were  first  brought  to  the  founders 
of  our  civilization.  Manumit,  like  candidate,  owes  its  exist- 
ence to  a  peculiar  Roman  custom — of  dismissing,  namely, 
•with  a  slap  of  the  hand  a  slave  made  free.  Money  and  mint 
(tw,6  different  forms  of  the  same  original,  moneta,  the  one 
coming  from  the  French  monnaie,  the  other  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  mynef)  tell  of  Roman  superstition  and  Roman  con- 
venience :  within  the  imperial  city  was  raised  a  temple  to 
Juno  Moneta,  '  Juno  the  Monisher,^  in  recognition  of  the 
supernatural  monitions  the  goddess  had  given  them  in  certain 
crises  of  their  history  ;  and  in  this  temple,  as  it  chanced, 
was  set  up  the  first  stamp  and  die  for  coining  money,  AVe 
say  calculate,  because  the  early  Romans  reckoned  by  the  aid 
of  little  pebbles  (calculi).  AVe  call  a  truckling  and  unscru- 
pulous parasite  a  sycophant,  because  it  once  pleased  the  men 
of  Athens  to  pass  a  law  forbidding  the  exportation  of  figs 
from  Attica;  which,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case  with  such  laws, 
was  little  more  than  a  dead  letter;  while  yet  there  were 
found  in  the  community  certain  mean  fellows  who  sought  to 
gain  their  selfish  ends  by  blabbing,  or  threatening  to  blab,  of 
those  who  violated  it  {sUko-phanfrs,  'fig-blabber').  We  put 
on  a  "  pair  Df  rubbers,"  because,  when  that  most  multifariously 


£11.]  ETYMOLOGIES.  131 

valuable  substance,  caoutchouc,  was  first  brought  to  us,  we 
could  find  for  it  no  better  use  than  the  rubbing  out  of 
pencil-marks.  A  whole  chapter  of  literary  history  is 
included  in  the  derivation  of  romantic  from  Borne  :  it  tells  of 
the  rise  of  rude  popular  dialects,  alongside  the  learned  and 
.polished  Latin,  in  the  various  provinces  of  the  Eoraan 
empire  ;  and  of  the  rise  of  modern  European  fiction,  written 
so  distinctively  in  these  dialects  that  it  got  its  name  from 
them  ;  and,  finally,  of  the  tone  and  style  of  fictitious  writing, 
and  the  characters  it  deals  with.  In  like  manner,  a  chapter  of 
religious  history  is  summed  up  in  the  word  pagan  (literally, 
'  villager  ')  :  it  tells  of  the  obstinate  conservation  of  heathen- 
ism in  the  villages  and  hamlets  under  Koman  dominion, 
when  the  cities  had  already  learned  and  embraced  Chris- 
tianity. And,  once  more,  slave  suggests  a  chapter  in  ethno- 
logical history :  it  tells  of  the  contempt  in  which  the  Slaves 
or  Slavonians  of  eastern  and  central  Europe  were  held  by  the 
m.ore  powerful  and  cultivated  G-ermans,  and  of  the  servitude 
to  which  so  many  of  them  were  reduced.  Several  among  the 
words  we  have  thus  instanced — as  lunatic,  candidate,  ro- 
mantic,  money — farther  include,  as  an  essential  part  of  their 
history,  the  career  of  one  great  conquering  and  civilizing 
power,  the  Roman,  whose  language,  along  with  its  knowledge 
and  institutions,  has  been  spread  to  every  part  of  the  globe. 
The  etymology  of  moon,  as  signifying  '  measurer,'  has  given 
us  an  interesting  glimpse  of  the  modes  of  thought  of  that 
primitive  people  who  first  applied  this  name  to  the  earth's 
satellite,  and  to  whom  her  office  as  a  divider  of  times  was  so 
prominent  among  her  attributes.  And  this  is  but  one 
among  innumerable  instances  in  which  our  conceptions  of 
olden  times  and  peoples  are  aided,  are  made  definite  andj 
vivid,  by  like  means.  To  study  the  moral  and  intellectual ) 
vocabulary  of  any  tongue  is  of  high  interest,  and  full  of  ■ 
instruction  as  to  the  laws  and  phenomena  of  association 
which  have  led  to  its  development  out  of  the  earlier  signs 
for  physical  and  sensible  things :  we  are  constantly  broughtj 
to  the  recognition  both  of  the  unity  of  human  nature,  a3'; 
Bhown  by  the  general  resemblances  which  such  study  brings 
to  light,  and  of  the  diversity  of  human  character  and  circum- 

9* 


132  OBLIVION    OF    ETYMOLOGIES  [LECT 

stance,  as  exhibited  in  the  etymological  variety  of  coiTe- 
sj:onding  appellations.  In  this  c;ipacity  of  language  to  yield 
to  its  historical  investigator  information  concerning  both  the 
internal  life  and  external  history  and  circumstances  of  those 
who  have  made  it  what  it  is,  lies,  as  was  pointed  out  in  the 
outset  of  our  inquiries,  no  small  portion  of  the  interest 
attaching  to  linguistic  study. 

But  etymological  reminiscences,  while  thus  of  the  highest 
value  to  him  who  reflects  upon  language  and  examines  its 
liistory,  are,  as  regards  the  practical  purposes  of  speech,  of 
very  subordinate  consequen  e  ;  nay,  they  would,  if  m.ore  pro- 
minent before  our  attention,  be  an  actual  embarrassment  to 
(  us.    L  Language  would  be  half  spoiled   for  our  use   by  the 
necessity  of  bearing  in  mind  why  and  how^  its  constituents 
have  the  value  we  give  them.     The  internal  development  of 
a  vocabulary,  too,  would  be  greatly  checked  and  hampered  by 
a  too  intrusive  etymological  consciousness.     All  significant 
'  transfer,  growth   of  new  meanings,  form-making,  is  directly 
j  dependent  upon  our  readiness  to  forget  the  derivation  of  our 

f  ( terms,  to  cut  loose  from  historical  connections,  and  to  make 
the  tie  of  conventional  usage  the  sole  one  between  the  thing 
signified  and  its  spoken  sign.  Much  the  greater  part. of  the 
resources  of  expression  possessed  by  our  laiif^uage  would  bo 
struck  off  at  a  blow,  if  a  perceived  bond  of  meaning,  between 
etymon  and  derivative  were  a  requisite  to  the  hitter's  exist- 
ence and  use.      Those,  then,  are  greatly  in  error  who  would 

/)  designate  by  the  name  "linguistic  sen^e  ^\'  {spracJisinii)  a 
disposition  to  retain  in  memory  the  original  shtfus  and  value 
of  formative  elements,  and  the  primary  significance  of  trans- 
/  ferred  terms ;  who  would  lay  stress  upon  the  maintenance 
of  such  a  disposition,  and  regard  its  wane  as  an  enfeeble- 
mcnt,  a  step  downward  toward  the  structural  decay  of  Ian- 
guage.  Oa  the  contrary,  the  opposite  tendency  is  the  true 
principle  of  lively  and  fertile  growth,  both  of  the  form  and 
content  of  speech,  and,  as  Ave  shall  see  hereafter,  it  prevails 
most  in  the  language^^^ highest  character  and  destiny.  A 
certain  degree  of  vi^mess,  of  graphic  and  picturesque 
quality,  it  is  true,  is  conferred  upon  a  term  whi(.'h  has  been 
applied  by  a  metaphor  to  a  mental  or  philosophic  use.  by  the 


11\  ]  NECESSARY    TO    LTNGUISTIC    GRO-VVTH.  1:>3 

continued  apprehension  of  tlie  metaphor ;  but  vividness  is  a 
quality  which  is  dearly  bought  at  the  expense  of  any  degree 
of  objective  clearness,  of  dry  and  sober  precision  ;  and  it  can 
always  be  attained,  when  really  wanted,  by  new  figures,  after 
old  figures  have  become  prosaic  appellations.  As  we  rise, 
too,  in  the  scale  of  linguistic  use,  from  that  which  is  straight- 
forward and  unreflective  to  that  which  is  elaborate,  pregnant, 
artistic,  etymological  considerations  in  many  cases  rise  in 
value,  and  constitute  an  important  element  in  that  suggest- 
iveness  which  invests  every  word,  giving  it  its  delicacy  of 
application,  making  it  full  of  significance  and  dignity  where 
another  term,  coarsely  synonymous  with  it,  would  be  tame 
and  ineffective.  A  pregnant  implication  of  etymologic 
meaning  often  adds  strikingly  to  the  force  and  impressive- 
ness  of  an  expression.  Yet  this  is  but  one  element  among 
many,  and  its  degree  of  consequence  is,  I  am  convinced,  apt 
to  be  over-estimated.  To  recur  once  more  to  some  of  our 
former  illustrations — while  an  allusion  to  the  wJdteness  of 
soul  signified  in  candid  may  touch  and  interest  one  whose 
classical  education  enables  him  to  recognize  and  appreciate 
it^  nothing  but  a  joke  or  a  conceit  could  well  be  extracted 
from  the  etymology  of  candidate ;  while  apprehend  afibrds 
possible  ground  for  a  use  in.  which  both  the  physical  and 
intellectual  meanings  shall  be  clearly  felt,  the  one  enforcing 
the  other,  understand  would  lend  itself  to  no  such  treatment. 
And  most  of  our  words  are  m  the  condition  of  candid,  can- 
didate, and  understand  ;  either,  as  in  the  case  of  the  two  last, 
the  etymology  is  trivial  or  obscure,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
first,  it  is  within  reach  only  of  the  learned,  and  cannot  aid 
the  general  speaker  and  hearer.  On  the  whole,  a  word^ 
both  in  its  direct  significance  and  in  its  suggestiveness,  is 
just  what  our  usage  makes  it.  Hardly  any  two  vocables 
that  wo  employ  are  more  instinct  with  deep  meaning,  more 
untranslatable  into  other  tongues,  than  home  and  comfort ; 
yet  neither  of  them  borrows  aught  from  etymology  ;  the  one 
signifies  by  derivation  nothing  more  intimate  than  the  place 
where  one  lives,  the  other,  than  the  conferral  of  strength 
{con-fortare^  ;  nor  has  either  an  etymon  in  English,  dis- 
coverable without  curious  research.     It  is  true  that  fatherhj 


134!  OUR    USE    OF    WORDS    INDEPENDENT  [lECT. 

hrotherli/,  luomanly  have,  to  our  apprehension,  a  greater 
depth  and  intimacy  of  significance  than  paternal,  fraternal^ 
feminine,  and  so  in  many  other  like  cases ;  yet  the  part  of 
this  which  is  due  to  the  perceived  connection  of  tlie  former 
\;\XX\  father ,  hrotlier,  woman  is  probably  less  than  is  usually 
imagined ;  the  difference  of  the  two  classes  consists  mucli 
more  in  their  character  as  Anglo-Saxon  and  as  Latin  respect- 
ively, and  in  the  more  formal  and  learned  use  of  the  latter 
class,  as  is  usual  with  the  Latin  part  of  our  language,  when 
compared  with  the  other.  How  independent  of  all  etymolo- 
gical aid  is  our  conventional  sense  of  the  meaning  of  the 
words  we  familiarly  use  may  be  shown  by  a  great  variety  of 
facts  in  our  language.  It  is  convenient  to  have  the  various 
conjugational  and  declensional  parts  of  our  verbs  and  nouns 
agree  in  form  as  in  sense  :  where  we  say  I  love,  to  say  also 
he  loves,  we  love,  tlieif  loved,  having  loved ;  where  we  say  man, 
to  say  also  man's,  men,  men's  ;  yet  we  say  I  om,  he  is,  we  are, 
they  were,  having  been,  and  I,7ni/,ice,oitr,sheaTid  her,  go  and 
went,  think  and  thought,  and  so  on,  without  any  sense  what- 
ever of  hesitation  or  difficulty.  So,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
gives  us  no  manner  of  trouble  to  separate  words  which 
ought,  according  to  the  usual  analogies  of  the  language,  to 
stand  in  a  near  relation  of  meaning  to'j^ether  ;  however  close 
may  be  their  correspondence  of  form,  it  does  not  disturb  the 
independent  act  of  association  by  which  we  bind  together 
each  separate  sign  and  its  own  cojiventional  idea :  take  as 
instances  honie  and  homely,  scarce  and  scarcely,  direct  and 
directly,  lust  and  lusty,  naught  and  naughty,  clerk  and  clergy^ 
2i  forge  and  forgery,  candid  and  candidate,  hospital  and  hospi- 
tality, idiom  and  idiocy,  light,  alight,  and  delight,  guard  and 
regard,  approach  and  reproach,  hold,  behold,  and  beholden — • 
and  it  would  be  easy  to  gather  an  indefinite  list  of  such 
words.  Tliey  furni^sh,  indeed,  only  another  illustration  of 
that  power  of  the  mind  over  its  instruments  which  appears 
in  the  facility  and  directness  wherewith,  as  has  been  already 
pointefl  out,  we  select  from  among  the  various  and  often 
very  diverse  meanings  of  a  single  word— such  as  ki)id,  like, 
become,  court,  head — that  one  which  the  circumstances  and 
the  connection   require.     They  help   us  to   apprehend  the 


ITI.]  or    ETYliriiOGTCAL    AID.  135 

true  relation  of  our  speecli  to  our  thougTits,  as  being  their    ^ 
assistant  and  means  of  communication,  not  their  director  or 
indispensable  accompaniment. 

Our  review  of  the  processes  constituting  the  life  of  lan- 
guage is  now  completed :  in  the  next  lecture,  we  shall  go  on 
to  consider  the  circumstances  which  hasten  or  retard  their 
action,  and  their  effect  in  bringing  about  the  separation  of 
languages  into  dialects 


LECTURE  IT. 


Varying  rate  and  kind  of  linguistic  growth,  and  causes  affecting  ft. 
Modes  of  growth  of  the  English  language.  Influences  conservative  of 
lingui.-tic  identity.  Causes  producing  dialects;  causes  maintaining, 
producing,  or  extending  homogeneity  of  speech.  Ill-vstrations  :  history 
of  the  German  language  ;  of  the  Latin  ;  of  the  English.  The  English 
language  in  America. 


We  have,  in  the  last  two  lectures,  occupied  ourselves  with 
tracing  out  and  illustrating  by  typical  examples  the  chief 
processes  of  that  incessant  change,  that  linguistic  growth, 
which  marks  a  language  as  living,  as  undergoing,  in  the 
minds  and  mouths  of  a  community,  constant  adaptation  to 
their  needs,  constant  adjustment  to  their  preferences  and 
caprices.  These  processes,  as  we  saw,  have  to  do  both  with 
the  external  form  of  speech,  its  spoken  and  audible  body, 
and  with  its  internal  content,  its  intended  and  apprehensible 
meaning.  As  regards  the  former,  they  appeared  to  be  of 
two  general  kinds  or  classes  :  on  the  one  hand,  they  partake 
of  the  nature  of  corruption  and  decay,  consisting  in  the  ab- 
breviation and  mutilation  of  existing  words,  the  wearing  off 
of  formative  elements  and  consequent  loss  of  forms,  the 
abandonment  of  old  distinctions  along  with  the  means  of 
their  expression,  the  dying  out  of  words  and  phrases  from 
memory  and  use  ;  on  the  other  hand,  they  are  of  the  nature 
of  growth,  providing  for  the  repair  of  this  waste,  and  the 
supply  of  new  additions  to  the  resources  of  expression,  by 
the  putting  togetlier  of  old  material  into  fresh  combinations, 
the  elaboration  of  formative  elements  out  of  words  possess- 


IV.]  VARIOUS    RATE    OF    LINGUISTIC    GROVv^TH.  137 

ing  iad.'penclent  significance,  and  the  application  of  accidental 
ditFerences  to  trie  practical  uses  of  significant  distinction. 
And  this  external  decay  and  growth  is  accompanied  by,  and 
accessory  to,  a  rich  and  ever-progressing  development  of 
ideal  content,  which  deals  at  its  will  v\ith  all  the  material  of 
sj)eech,  which  contracts,  expands,  and  transfers  the  mean- 
ings of  words,  which  converts  the  physical  and  concrete  into 
the  intellectual  and  abstract,  which  produces  variety  out  of 
sameness,  and  is  never  at  a  loss  for  means  whereby  to  pro- 
vide with  its  suitable  sign  any  fresh  acquisition  to  the  sum 
of  things  known,  any  new  conception  or  deduction.  In 
continning  at  present  our  discussion  of  the  life  of  language, 
we  have  fir.st  to  note  the  varying  rate  at  which  the  processes 
of  growth  go  on,  and  to  bring  to  light  some  of  the  circum- 
stances which  affect  their  progress. 

The  fact  of  variation  in  the  rate  of  linguistic  growth,  it 
may  be  remarked  by  way  of  introduction,  is  a  very  obvious 
one.  Our  own  English  has  changed  much  less  during  the 
past  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  than  during  the  like  period 
next  preceding ;  and  vastly  less  in  the  last  five  centuries 
than  during  the  five  which  went  before  them.  The  German 
of  the  present  day  is  not  more  altered  from  the  ancient  type 
of  Germanic  speech  than  was  tiie  English  of  six  or  seven 
centuries  ago  ;  iior  the  Icelandic  now  current  than  the 
Anglo-Saxon  of  King  Alfred  and  his  predecessors.  The 
modern  lioinauic  dialects — the  Spanish,  French,  Italian,  and 
the  rest — have  deviated  far  more  widely  from  the  Latin  of 
Cicero  and  Virgil  than  has  the  dialect  of  the  Greeks  from 
that  of  Cicero's  Hellenic  contemporaries  ;  and  they  differ 
from  one  another  not  a  little  in  the  degree,  as  well  as  in  the 
mode,  of  their  respective  deviation.  To  go  somewhat 
further  from  home,  the  Arabic  of  the  Bedouin  in  this  cen- 
tury is  incomparably  more  nearly  identical  with  that  of  the 
tribes  through  whose  borders  the  children  of  Israel  were  led 
by  Moses  than  is  any  one  of  our  contemporary  European 
tongues  with  its  ancestor  of  the  same  reraote  period.  And  there 
are  to  be  found  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  dialects  v.hich  are 
even  now  so  rapidly  changing  that  those  who  speak  them 
would   be   unable   to   converse  with   either   their   ancestors 


138  EXTERNAL    CIRCUMSTANCES    '  "lECT. 

or  their  descendants  across  an  interval  of  four  or  five  genera- 
tions. 

Now  the  particular  modes  and  departments  of  linguistic 
change  are  so  diverse  that  no  one  cause,  or  kind  of  causes, 
can  affect  them  all,  or  affect  them  all  alike,  either  to  quicken 
or  to  retard  them.  But  the  plainest  and  most  apprehensible 
influence  is  that  which  is  exerted  by  change  of  external  cir- 
cumstances, surroundings,  mode  of  life,  meutal  and  physical 
activity,  customs  and  habits  ;  and  to  this,  accordingly,  we  will 
first  direct  our  attention.  How  powerfully  such  causes  may 
act  upon  language  will  be  best  shown,  perhaps,  by  imagining 
an  extreme  case.  Suppose  an  illiterate  English  family  to  be 
cast  away  upon  a  coral  islet  in  the  Pacific,  and  to  be  left 
there  isolated  through  a  succession  of  generations.  How 
much  of  our  language  would  at  once  begin  to  become  useless 
to  them !  All  that  is  connected  with  variety  of  scenery,  as 
hill  and  dale,  as  rock  and  ri^'er  ;  with  diversity  of  season,  of 
temperature,  of  skyey  influences  ;  with  wealth  of  animal  aifd 
vegetable  life ;  with  multifariousness  of  experience,  of  occu- 
pation, of  material,  of  production — and  much  more,  which  it 
is  needless  to  specify.  For  a  certain  period,  some  part  of 
this  might  be  kept  alive  by  memory  and  tradition,  but  not 
for  ever ;  it  would  lose  its  distinctness  before  the  mind,  be- 
come shadowy,  and  b}"  degrees  die  out  ;  and  its  loss  would 
be  facilitated  by  that  stupefying  eftect  which  the  climate  and 
mode  of  life,  with  their  restricted  limits  and  dull  uniformity, 
would  unavoidably  have  upon  the  mind  ;  vigour  of  thought 
and  liveliness  of  sentiment  would  be  likely  to  decline ;  and, 
after  the  lapse  of  a  sufficient  period  to  allow  these  causes 
their  full  eftect,  the  wealth  of  English  speech  might  be  re- 
duced to  a  poverty  comparable  with  that  of  some  among  the 
present  Polynesian  dialects.  But  suppose,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  Polynesian  family  set  down  in  the  midst  of  a  country 
like  Iceland,  amid  magnificent  and  terrible  scenery,  amid 
varieties  of  nature  innumerable,  where  hard  labour  and 
prudent  forethought,  tasking  all  the  moral  and  physical 
energies  of  man,  are  needed  to  preserve  life  and  make  it  en- 
durable— suppose  them  to  be  able  to  bear  and  adapt  them- 
selves  to   this   tremendous   change,  and  ho\v  rapidly  would 


IV.]  AFFECT    LINGUISTIC    GROWTH.  139 

their  language  grow  iu  names  and  expressions  for  objoots, 
processes,  experiences,  emotions,  relations  ! 

This  is  but  a  maguified  example  of  wliat  is  always  and 
everywhere  going  on  in  language :  it  expands  and  contracts 
in  close  adaptation  to  the  circumstances  aud  needs  of  those 
who  use  it;  it  is  enriched  and  impoverished  along  with  Ihe 
enrichment  or  impoverishment  of  their  minds.  We  have 
already  pointed  out  that  the  lowest  and  least  educated  cla^^ses 
of  English  speakers  use  not  a  tenth  of  the  words  which 
constitute  to  our  apprehension  the  English  tongue  ;  the  re- 
duction, then,  of  the  English  people  in  its  entirety  to  the 
condition  of  the  classes  referred  to  would  imply  the  utter  ex- 
tinction of  more  than  nine-tenths  of  its  resources  of  expres- 
sion :  and  all  declension  of  civilization,  decay  of  natural 
vigour^  intermission  of  instruction,  tends,  in  its  way  and 
measure,  toward  such  a  result ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
race  that  is  growing  in  knowledge  and  rising  in  character 
makes  its  tongue  richer  and  nobler  at  every  step  of  its  up- 
ward career.  But  it  is  needless  to  insist  farther  upon  a 
truth  so  obvious  :  no  one  will  think  of  denying  that  the  con- 
tent of  any  language,  in  words  and  phrases  and  their  mean- 
ings, must  correspond  with  aud  be  measured  by  the  mental 
wealth  of  the  community  to  whom  it  belongs,  and  must 
change  as  this  changes.  It  is  but  the  simplest  corollary 
from  the  truth  which  we  have  already  established,  that  men 
make  their  own  language,  and  keep  it  in  existence  by  their 
tradition,  and  that  they  make  and  transmit  it  for  their  own 
practical  uses,  and  for  no  other  end  whatsoever. 

A  vastly  more  subtle  and  difficult  question  is,  in  w'hat 
shall  consist  the  linguistic  growth  which  change  of  circum- 
Btance  demands,  or  to  which  varying  character  and  choice 
impel :  how  far  shall  it  lie  in  the  accession  or  withdrawal 
of  words  and  meanings  of  words,  and  how  far  in  develop- 
ment or  decay  of  linguistic  structure  ?  It  was  pointed  out 
in  our  first  lecture  that  change  of  vocabulary,  while  it  is  the 
most  legitimate  and  inevitable  of  any  that  a  language  under- 
goes, is  also  the  least  penetrating,  touching  most  lightly 
the  essential  character  of  speech  as  the  instrument  of 
thought.     And  we  saw  later  (p.   83)  how   such  words  as 


110  RECENT    ilODES    OF    GROWTH  [lECT, 

pliotograph  and  telegraph  are  brouglit  ia  and  naturalized, 
fitted  witii  all  the  inilectioual  apparatus  whicli  the  language 
possesses,  without  any  further  consequences.  Such  are 
mere  additions  to  speech,  which  may  affect  the  sum  and 
aggregate  value  of  its  resources  of  expressio.i,  often  to  a 
cont-'iderabla  extent,  without  modifying  its  organism,  or  alter- 
ing its  grammatical  form,  its  apprehension  of  relations  and 
command  of  the  means  of  signifying  them.  And  yet,  the 
same  circumstances  which  lead  to  the  great  and  rapid  develop- 
ment of  a  vocabulary — especially  where  it  takes  place  out 
of  native  resources,  and  in  a  less  conscious  and  artificial  way 
• — may  have  an  indirect  effect  upon  grammatical  develoj)- 
ment  al-so  ;  where  so  much  change  is  going  on,  so  much 
that  is  new  comiuij  into  use,  the  influence  will  naturallv  be 
felt  in  some  measure  in  every  part  of  the  language.  Hints 
of  such  a  possibility  are  discoverable  even  in  the  modern 
history  of  our  own  speech :  graph,  for  example,  has  been 
brought  in  as  the  final  member  of  so  many  new  compounds 
that  it  almost  presents  itself  to  the  consciousness  of  English 
speakers  as  a  fornuitive  element,  having  a  given  office,  and 
so  constituting  a  part  of  the  a})paratus  of  English  derivation; 
while  ism,  though  of  ultimate  Greek  origin,  and  coming  to 
us  through  the  Freuch,  has  become  a  thoroughly  English 
sullix,  admitting  of  the  most  familiar  and  extended  applica- 
tion in  forming  new  words.  So  distinct,  indeed,  is  our 
apprehension  of  the  specific  value  of  the  ending  ism  that  we 
are  able  to  cut  it  oft'  and  make  an  independent  word  of  it, 
talking  of  a  person's /5W5,  or  of  his  favourite  ism — as  we  also 
speak,  less  familiarly,  of  ana^  '  personal  reminiscence  and 
anecdote,'  or,  in  a  half-humorous  way,  of  the  ologies, 
*  branches  of  learned  study.' 

We  cannot,  perhaps,  better  illustrate  this  subject  of  the 
modes  of  linguistic  change  as  determined  in  their  respective 
degree  of  operation  by  the  influence  of  circumstances,  than 
by  briefly  examining  the  way  in  which  our  own  speech  is 
now  adaj)ting  itself  to  tlie  growing  needs  of  its  speakers. 
The  call  upon  it  for  increase  of  ex[)ressivencss  during  the 
past  century  and  at  the  present  time  has  been  and  is  hardly 
less    than   woidd  have   been  that   upon  the  dialect  of  our 


rV.]  IN    THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  141 

imagined  Polynesians  in  tlieir  new  Icelandic  home.  Doubt- 
less there  was  never  before  in  the  history  of  the  ^Y0^1d  a 
time  when  men  were  accumulating  with  such  rapidity  know- 
ledge of  the  past  history  aud  present  constitution  of  the 
whole  universe  of  created  things — knowledge  which  is  not, 
it  is  true,  necessarily  wisdom  or  virtue,  but  which  can  and 
ought  to  turn  to  both.  A  part,  now,  of  this  new  knowledge 
— and  a  part  of  the  highest  importance  to  the  general  com- 
munity— is  such  as  calls  for  no  change  whatever  in  language, 
because  it  consists  only  in  the  better  understanding  of  things 
long  since  observed  and  named.  However  much  astronomy 
and  pliysics  may  teach  us  respecting  the  sun  and  \\ie  planets, 
we  continue  to  call  them  as  of  old  ;  the  words  heat,  cold, 
I  iff  Jit,  green,  blue,  red  stand  their  ground  in  general  use,  not- 
withstanding the  new  vibratory  theories,  and  the  wonderful 
discoveries  lately  made  in  the  spectrum  of  colours  ;  pudding- 
stone  is  pudding-stone,  and  trap  is  trap,  now  as  before  the 
geologist  had  explained  the  origin  of  either  ;  substances  still 
fall  to  the  earth  and  rise  andjloat  in  the  air,  even  after  the 
discovery  of  gravitation ;  rubbed  amber  and  the  loadstone 
attract,  as  they  did  ere  men  had  heard  of  electricity  and 
magnetism  as  cosmical  forces.  There  is,  and  evidently  in 
the  nature  of  the  case  can  be,  no  limit  to  the  extent  to  which 
a  language  may  thus  become  impregnated  with  clearer  know- 
ledge and  deeper  meaning  ;  and  it  has  been  already  pointed 
out  (p.  21)  that  the  speech  of  different  individuals  at  tlie 
same  period  may  vary  to  almost  any  degree  in  the  implica- 
tion of  these  qualities,  not  less  than  the  speech  of  the  general 
community  at  dilicrcnt  periods.  But  in  great  part,  also,  the 
modern  additions  to  knov.dedge  have  been  of  such  a  sort  as 
to  demand  the  provision  of  a  store  of  new  signs  :  they  have 
included  an  immense  number  of  new  particulars,  things 
before  unobserved  or  confounded  with  others  under  the  same 
names,  bat  which,  being  made  the  subject  of  distinct  concep- 
tions, have  come  to  require  specific  appellations,  that  men 
mio-ht  communicate  with  one  another  resnecting  them. 
Even  this  want  has  in  some  measure  been  filled  without 
exterjul  change  of  the  language,  by  the  internal  development 
of  its  resources,  as  illustrated  in  the  preceding  Lecture,  by  the 


/ 


l-i2  RECENT    MODES    OF    GROWTH  [lECT. 

application  of  a  not  inconsiderable  number  of  old  words  to 
"new  uses.  Whenever  any  branch  of  knowledge,  any  art  or 
science,  either  originates  or  is  extended  and  perfected,  the 
natural  impulse  is  always  to  subserve  its  new  uses  with  our 
old  phraseology.  The  new  classifications,  substances,  pro- 
cesses, products  are  not  so  unlike  those  already  familiar  to 
us  tliat  they  may  not  be  largely  called  by  the  same  names, 
without  fear  of  obscurity  or  error.  Every  technical  vocabu- 
lary is  thus  made  up  to  no  small  extent  of  the  terms  of 
common  life,  more  precisely  or  more  pregnantly  used.  The 
botanist  talks  of  leaves  and  flowers  ;  but  in  either  term  he 
includes  some  things  that  the  common  man  would  exclude, 
and  the  contrary.  Current,  conductor,  induction,  in  the 
mouth  of  the  electrician,  mean  things  of  which  he  who 
knows  nothing  of  physics  has  no  conception.  Many  a  man 
who  is  aware  that  cohere  means  '  stick  together  '  would  be  at 
a  loss  to  distinguish  cohesion  from  adhesion.  Atom,  base,  acid, 
salt,  affinity,  reaction,  are  but  instances  of  the  words  innu- 
merable to  which  the  chemist  has  given  a  new  and  special 
significance.  In  fact,  the  whole  a])paratus  of  common  speech, 
as  applied  to  the  more  definite  and  sharply  distinguished  uses 
of  science,  undergoes  a  kind  of  working-over  and  adaptation, 
which  is  of  every  degree,  from  sud-h  a  conscious  and  artificial 
application  as  that  of  the  word  salt,  used  to  express  a  large 
class  of  chemical  compounds  regarded  as  analogous  with  the 
substance  formerly  called  by  that  name,  down  to  such 
simple  limitation  or  distincter  apprehension  of  the  true  force 
of  a  term  as  is  hardly  separable  from  that  change  of  impli- 
cation without  change  of  identity  which  we  have  illustrated 
above,  by  reference  to  the  words  sun,  heat,  rise  und  fall,  etc. 
The  mode  of  linguistic  growth  which  we  are  now  considering 
does,  indeed,  shade  off  into  the  former  one,  and  is  most 
nearly  akin  with  it,  in  nature  and  in  necessity.  No  language 
can  possibly  lose  the  capacity  for  it  without  losing  its  very 
life  ;  in  some  languages,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter,  it  is  com- 
pelled to  do  the  whole  work  of  linguistic  adaptation,  external 
growth  being  a  thing  unknown. 

In  our  own  tongue, .however,  external  growth,  as  repre- 
sented by  the  formation  of  new  derivatives,  and  new  combin- 


rr.]  IN    THE    ENGLISH    LAXGTJAGE.  143 

ations    of    existing   materials,    is    not    altogether    extinct, 
though  reduced  to  a  comparatively  low  grade  of  activity,  and 
restricted  in  sphere.     To  its  chief  modes  of  action  we  havo 
already,   in    other  connections,   had   occasion   to   refer.      It 
consists  mainly  in  what  we  haA^e  called  the  mobilization  of 
our    words,    the    application    to   them    of   those    formatirij 
elements  which  still  remain  to  us  with  capacity  of  living  'ise. 
and   by   which    we  produce  both   inflections  a^d  derivative 
words,  as  we  have  need  of  them.      Increase   of  these    our 
means  of  internal  development  is  all  but  impracticable.  Our 
most  recent  organically  developed  suffix  is  the  adverbial  end- 
ing /y,  which  has  been  found  above  so  valuable  in  illustrating 
the  oeiieral  method  of  suffix-formation.       Yet  not  a  few  ele- 
ments  of  Latin  origin  have  won  by  degrees  the  right  to  play 
an  active  part  in  the  making  of  new  English  words  :    such 
are  the  prefixes  en,  dis,  re,  the  suffixes  ment,  ess,  able,  ous,  ic, 
ize,  ism, J}/,  and  others;    nor,  as  w'e  have  seen,  is  the  possi- 
bility even  of  farther  additions  to  the  list  totally   cut  off. 
An  instance  of  a  rather  artificial  and  abnormal  extension  of 
formative  apparatus  was  afforded  us  by  the  introduction  of 
the  chemical  terminology  referred  to  in  the  last  lecture  (p. 
122);    the   modern  history  of   scientific  nomenclature  pre- 
sents other  similar  cases  ;  and  the  exigencies  of  common  use, 
directed  by  the  custom  and  authority  of  the  learned,  may 
yet  cause  some  of  these  ingrafted   elements  to  germinate 
and  flourish  as  integral  parts  of  the  general  system  of  speech. 
No  such  results  are  at  all  likely  to  follow  from  the  combin- 
ation and   integration  of  elements  of  our   own  proper  lan- 
guage which  are  now  independent.      Of  composition,  as   a 
means  of  enrichment  of  our  vocabulary,  we  make  at  present 
but  a  limited  use:  steamboat  and  railroad  are  familiar  reprc;- 
sentatives    of  a  class   which,  though  not   inconsiderable    in 
numbers,  forms  a  far  less  proportion  of  the  modern  growth 
in  our  tongue  than  in  most  others  of  its  kindred. 

Such  of  the  needs  of  language -making  as  are  not  supplied 
by  us  in  the  methods  already  noticed  are  satisfied  by  the 
borrowing  of  words  from  other  tongues;  and  this,  as  every 
one  knows,  is  an  expedient  to  which  excessive  resort  is  had 
in    English.      Our    dictionaries    have    been    filled  up   with 


l44l  INTRODUCTION    INTO    ENGLISH  [LECT. 

thousands  upon  thousands  of  Greek  and  Latin  words;  and 
thousands  more,  too  purely  technical  as  yet  to  be  admitted 
into  the  dictionaries,  are  current  among  certain  classes  of 
our  community.  The  circumstances,  external  and  internal, 
■which  give  such  prevalence  among  us  to  this  mode  of  lin- 
guistic growth,  are  many  and  various.  First  among  them, 
we  may  refer  to  the  scantiness  of  our  formative  apparatus, 
and  the  indisposition  to  an  extensive  production  of  new  com- 
pounds which  characterizes  our  speech  :  these  limitations  to 
the  capacity  of  internal  development  compel  a  recurrence 
to  external  wealth.  Then,  the  combination  into  which  our 
originally  Germanic  dialect  was  forced,  by  pressure  of  his- 
torical conditions,  with  the  Eomanic  tongue  of  the  conquer- 
ing Normans,  while  it  brought  im.medialely  into  general  use 
a  host  of  terms  of  classical  origin,  opened  the  door  for  their 
indefinite  multiplication,  by  creating  analogies  to  which 
they  could  attach  tliemselves,  giving  them  such  support  in 
popular  usage  as  took  away  the  strangeness  of  aspect  which 
they  would  else  have  had.  Yet  it  is  true  that  the  words  of 
common  life,  those  which  every  English-speaking  child  learns 
first  and  continues  to  use  ofteuest,  are  overwhelmingly  of 
Anglo-Saxon  origin,  are  Germanic  :  Latin  and  Greek  deriva- 
tives come  in  abundantly  with  culture,  learning,  special 
scientific  training.  And  this  explains  in  part  the  modern 
preponderance  of  such  derivatives.  The  knowledge  which 
they  are  introduced  to  represent  is  of  a  learned  cast,  not 
interesting  in  its  details  the  general  community  of  English 
speakers,  nor  accessible  to  them  ;  belonging,  rather,  to  a 
special  class,  which  feels  itself  more  closely  united  by  bonds 
of  community  with  like  classes  in  other  nations  than  with 
the  mass  of  its  own  countrymen.  There  is  a  fellowship,  a 
solidarity,  among  the  chemists  of  Europe  and  America,  for  in- 
stance, which  makes  them  name  things  on  principles  accej)ted 
among  themselves,  and  out  of  languages  known  alike  to  them 
all,  rather  than  out  of  the  stores  of  expression,  and  in  accord- 
ance with  the  usages,  of  their  own  vernaculars.  It  is  doubt- 
ful whether  ariv  lanfuncfo  that  ever  existed  could  have  made 
prov'ision  healthily,  irom  its  own  internal  resources,  for  the 
expression  of  that  infinite  number  of  new  particulars  which 


IV.J  OP    GREEK   AND    LATIN    WORDS.  145 

modern  science  has  been  pouring  in  of  late  upon  tlie  general 
a<rgrcgate  of  knowledge.      Think,  for  example,   of  the  per- 
plexity of  the  naturalist  who  returns  from  an  exploring  tour 
with  a  thousand  new  species  of  plants   and  animals,  if  he 
were  compelled  to  devise  vernacular  designations  for  them 
all !     And  how  useless  the  effort !       They  will  remain  for 
ever  unknown  to  nineteen  twentieths,  perhaps,  of  those  who 
speak  his  speech,  and  if  one  or  another  of  them  should  ever 
become  introduced  to  greneral  knowledore,  thev  would  easilv 
enough  acquire  familiar  names.      Xo  modern  language,  then, 
whatever  its   superiority  to  the  English  in  the  capacity  of 
internal  growth,  attempts  to  fill  such  departments  ofexpres 
sion  otherwise  than  by  borrowing  from  the  Latin  and  Greek, 
happy  in  the  possession  of  stores  so  rich,  so  accessible,  and 
so  manageable,  to  draw  upon.      The  names  of  animal  and 
vegetable   species,  of  their   parts  and  specific  differences,  of 
mineral  elements  and  compounds,  of  processes  and  relations, 
and  so  forth,  are  Latin  or  Latinic  through  the  whole  civilized 
world.     If  the  German  is  more  inclined  to  favour  terms  of 
native  growth,  and  for  hydrogen,  oxygen,  acid,  says  "water-sub- 
stance "  (tcasserstojf),  "sour-substance"  (sauerstoff),  "sour- 
ness,"   {sliure),   and  the  like,    it  may   be  seriously  doubted 
whether  the  gain  is  of  appreciable  value.  AVe  have  seen  how 
little  the  act  of  association  which  binds  together  idea  and  sign 
is  dependent  upon  the  aid  of  etymological  suggestiveness;  and 
the  forcing  of  a  great  variety  of  new"  specific  meanings  in  a 
brief  space  of  time  upon  the  old  material  of  a  tongue  may 
make  quite  as  much  for  confusion  as  for  intelligibility  and 
vividness  of  expression.     It  is  comparatively  easy  for  a  com- 
munity to  provide  out  of  its  vernacular  resources  of  speech 
for   that   ordinary    growth    of    knowledge,    experience,    and 
wisdom  which   comes  in  the  main  bv  the  working  over  of 
conceptions  already  acquired  and  named,  and  only  in  lesser 
degree  by  the  apprehension  of  new  particulars  ;  but  we  have 
only   to   rejoice  that  our  language  is  by  fortunate  circum- 
plances   saved   from    a   strain  which   the   present  conditions 
of  our  culture  would  otherwise  have  put  upon  it,  and  which 
is  more  severe  than  any  living  tongue  has  ever  been  obliged 
to  endure. 

to 


146  IMFORTATION    OF    FOREIGN    WORDS,  [lECT. 

But  even  things  of  the  most  common  use  and  knowledge 
come -to  bear  with  us  designations  of  learned  and  artificial 
make.  A  certain  showy  flower,  introduced  not  very  long 
ago  by  learned  intervention  to  the  parterres  of  the  wealthy, 
but  now  found  in  every  poor  man's  garden,  and  almost  as 
familiar  as  the  sun-flower  or  the  rose,  is  known  only  by  tlie 
name  dahlia,  giveu  it  by  its  botanical  describer  in  honour  of 
an  earlier  botanist,  Dahl.  The  telegraphy  a  scientific  device, 
keeps  its  foreign  scientific  title,  not  in  our  own  country  only, 
but  all  over  the  globe,  although  it  has  become  an  institution 
almost  as  universal  and  indispensable  as  the  post.  A  sub- 
stance over  whose  discovery  and  application  no  small  part  of 
our  community  has  gone  wild  within  the  past  few  years,  has 
not  retained  its  honest  English  appellation  of  roch  oil^ 
or  mineral  oil,  but  has  accepted  from  the  learned  the  equiva- 
lent Latin  name  petroleum,  and  is  so  called  by  millions  who 
have  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  derivation  and  meanuig 
of  the  term.  The  influence  of  the  learned  class  in  the  pro- 
cess of  English  names-giving  has  been  for  many  centuries  a 
growing  one,  and  has  now  become  greatly  predominant;  and 
with  it  has  grown,  somewhat  unduly,  the  introduction  of 
classic  word  and  phrase,  to  supplement,  or  even  to  replace, 
native  English  expression.  There  is  a  pedantically  learned 
style  which  founds  itself  on  the  Latin  dictionary  rather  than 
the  English,  and  discourses  in  a  manner  half  unintelligible 
except  to  the  classically  educated :  but  this  is  only  the  fool- 
ish exaggeration  of  a  tendency  which  has  become  by  degrees 
an  integral  part  of  English  speech.  To  draw  in  like  manner 
upon  the  resources  of  any  other  tongue  (as,  for  instance, 
upon  the  German)  would  be  a  fault  of  a  very  difl*erent  cha- 
racter —  a  pure  impossibility,  an  intolerable  aflectation, 
because  unsupported  by  anything  in  the  previous  usages  of 
our  mother-tongue. 

V  We  see,  then,  that  the  most  obvious  and  striking  peculi- 
arity of  English  linguistic  growth,  the  wholesale  importation 
of  foreign  terms,  is  one  by  which  it  ditfers  only  in  degree 
from  other  linguistic  growth,  ancient  and  modern,  and  that 
this  degree  of  ditference  is  explained  by  the  circumstances 
of  the  case — the  learned  character  of  much  of  the  knowledge 


rV,]  AND    ITS    CAUSES.  147 

deii.anding  representation,  the  sluggishness  of  the  native 
processes  of  word-formation,  and  the  presence  of  numerong 
words  of  classic  origin  in  our  familiar  speech  ;  all  which 
circumstances  have  begotten  and  fostered  a  habit  of  resorting 
more  and  more  for  the  supply  of  new  needs  to  the  accessible 
and  abundant  stores  of  classical  expression.  The  determining 
causes  are  wholly  historical.  The  inaptness  for  internal  de- 
velopm^ent,  the  aptness  to  borrow,  which  distinguish  our 
language  from  others  of  Germanic  origin,  are  both  mainly 
traceable  to  the  Norman  invasion.  In  consequence  of  that 
event,  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  for  a  time  in  danger  of  extinc- 
tion, or  of  reduction  to  the  rank  of  a  vulgar  patois.  Political 
conditions,  severing  Anglo-Norman  interests  from  those  of 
the  continent,  and  originating  a  common  English  feeling  in 
the  whole  population,  notwithstanding  its  diverse  elements, 
led  to  a  fusion  of  Norman-French  and  Saxon-English,  instead 
of  a  displacement  of  the  latter  by  the  former:  but,  when  the 
new  tongue  came  forth,  it  was  found  shorn  of  much  of  its 
grammatical  power,  greatly  altered  in  its  forms  and  modes 
of  construction.  The  purity  and  directness  of  linguistic 
tradition  had  been  broken  up  ;  the  conservative  iniluence 
exercised  upon  the  foundation-language  by  the  cultivated 
class  of  its  speakers  had  been  for  a  time  destroyed,  and 
popular  inaccuracies  and  corruptions  allow-ed  full  sway  ;  a 
mode  of  speech  was  learned  by  considerable  masses  of  a  popu- 
lation to  whose  fathers  it  was  strange  and  barbarous ;  the 
rest  had  admitted  to  their  daily  and  familiar  use  a  host  of 
new  words  on  which  their  old  apparatus  of  inflection  sat 
strangely :  and  this  was  the  result.  So  is  it  likely  ever  to 
be,  when  the  intermingling  on  nearly  equal  terms  of  races  of 
diverse  speech  issues  in  the  elaboration,  by  mutual  accommo- 
dation and  compromise,  of  a  new  mixed  dialect  which  all 
shall  learn  and  use  alike. 

We  must  be  careful  not  to  mistake  the  nature  of  the 
obstacle  which  prevents  the  liberal  incTease  of  our  vocabulary 
by  means  of  combination  of  old  materials.  It  is  wholly  sub- 
jective, consisting  in  our  habits  and  preferences.  There  is 
hardly  a  compound  formed  in  German,  for  example,  whi(jh 
would  not,  if  literally  translated  by  an  English  compound, 

10* 


148  CIRCUMSTANCES    AFFECTING   THE  [lECT. 

be  understood,  and  which  we  might  not  therefore  imitate,  if 
intelligibility  were  all  that  we  had  to  consult  in  our  word- 
making.  But  we  are  obliged  also  to  have  in  view  the  pre- 
possessions of  the  community  ;  and  this  is  not  a  thing  which 
they  are  used  to  and  Avill  approve.  The  whole  process  of 
language-making  and  language-changing,  in  all  its  diflerent 
departments,  is  composed  of  single  acts,  performed  by  indi- 
viduals ;  yet  each  act  is  determined,  not  alone  by  the  needs 
of  the  particular  case,  but  also  by  the  general  usages  of  tlie 
community  as  acting  in  and  represented  by  the  individual; 
so  that,  in  its  initiation  as  well  as  its  acceptance  and  ratifi- 
cation, it  is  virtually  the  act  of  the  community,  as  truly  con- 
ventional as  if  men  held  a  meeting  for  its  discussion  and 
decision. 

We  have  hitherto  considered  chiefly  the  effect  of  circum- 
stances upon  the  growth  of  language,  its  enrichment  with 
the  means  of  designating  new  conceptions  and  representing 
new  judgments.  AYe  have  also  briefly  to  examine  their 
influence  upon  linguistic  decay,  upon  phonetic  change  and 
grammatical  corruption.  These,  as  has  been  already  suffi- 
ciently pointed  out,  are  the  result  of  the  defective  tradition 
of  language  ;  by  carelessness  in  the  acquisition  of  words,  or 
by  inaccuracy  in  their  reproduction,  men  change  from 
generation  to  generation  the  speech  which  they  transmit. 
It  is  evident,  then,  that  everything  which  assists  the  accuracy 
of  linguistic  tradition  tends  to  preserve  the  phonetic  and 
grammatical  structure  of  language  from  alteration.  AVhere 
speech  is  most  unconsciously  employed,  with  most  exclusive 
attention  to  the  needs  and  conveniences  of  the  moment,  with 
least  regard  to  its  inherited  usages,  there  its  changes  are 
rifest.  Any  introduction  of  the  element  of  reflection  is  con- 
servative in  its  eftect.  A  people  that  think  of  their  speech, 
talk  about  it,  observe  and  deduce  its  rules  and  usages,  will 
alter  it  but  slowly.  A  tendency  to  do  this  sometimes  forms 
a  part  of  a  nation's  peculiar  character,  being  the  result  of 
qualities  and  circumstances  which  it  is  well-nigh  or  quite 
impossible  to  trace  out  and  exj)lain  ;  but  often  it  is  called 
forth,  or  favoured  and  strengthened,  by  very  obvious  con- 
ditions ;    by  admiring  imitation  of  the  ways  and  words  of 


nr.]  RATE    OF    LINGUISTIC   DECAY.  119 

them  of  old  time  ;  hj  the  possession  of  a  traditional  litera- 
ture ;  but,  most  of  all,  by  a  recorded  literature,  tlie  habit  of 
writing,  and  a  system  of  instruction.  Culture  and  education 
are  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  forces  which  oppose  lin- 
guistic change.  The  smallest  conceivable  alterati^-e  influence 
will  emanate  from  one  who  has  been  trained  to  speak 
correctly  by  a  conscious  effort,  and  who  is  accustomed  to 
write  what  he  says  almost  as  frequently  and  naturally  as  he 
speaks  it.  Words,  in  their  true  form  and  -independent 
entity,  are  too  distinctly  present  to  his  mind  for  him  to  take 
part  either  in  their  fusion  or  mutilation.  Hence  the  effect 
of  literary  culture  is  to  fix  a  language  in  the  condition  iu 
which  it  happens  to  be  found,  to  assure  to  it  the  continued 
possession  of  the  formative  processes  which  are  then  active 
in  its  development,  but  to  check  or  altogether  prevent  its 
acquisition  of  any  others  ;  to  turn  its  prevailing  habits  into 
unalterable  laws  ;  and  to  maintain  its  phonetic  character 
against  anything  but  the  most  gradual  and  insidious  change. 
Thus  far  in  the  history  of  the  world,  this  kind  of  con- 
servative influence  has  usually  been  active  only  within  the 
limits  of  a  class ;  a  learned  or  priestly  caste  has  become  the 
guardian  of  the  national  literature  and  the  conservator  of  the 
tongue  in  which  it  was  written  ;  while  to  the  masses  of  the 
people  both  have  grown  strange  and  uuftimiliar.  Deprived 
of  the  popular  support,  the  cultivated  dialect  has  at  once 
begun  to  lose  its  vitality  ;  for  no  language  can  remain  alive 
which  is  not  answering  all  the  infinitely  varied  needs  of  a 
whole  community,  and  adapting  itself  in  every  part  to  their 
changes  ;  it  is  stinted  of  its  natural  and  necessary  growth 
when  it  is  divorced  from  general  use  and  made  the  exclusive 
property  of  a  class.  Thus  there  come  to  exist  among  the 
same  people  two  separate  tongues  ;  the  one  an  inheritance 
from  the  past,  becoming  ever  more  stifl*  and  constrained, 
and  employable  only  for  special  uses ;  the  other  the  pro- 
duction  of  the  present,  growing  constantly  more  unlike  the 
other  by  the  operation  of  the  ordinary  processes  of  linguistic 
change ;  full  of  inaccuracies  and  corruptions,  if  we  choose 
to  call  them  so,  but  also  full  of  a  healthy  and  vigorous  life, 
which  enables  it  finally  to  overthrow  and  replace  the  learned 


150  ANCIENT    AND    MODERN  [lECT, 

or  sacred  dialect  of  which  it  is  the  ofTspriiig.  Such  has  been 
the  origin  and  such  the  fate  of  all  the  lexrned  dialects  which, 
in  various  parts  of  the  world,  have  been  preserved  as  "  dead 
languages,"  for  the  purposes  of  learned  communication,  after 
losing  their  character  as  the  vernacular  speech  of  a  com- 
munity :  for  instance,  the  ancient  Egyptian,  long  kept  up  for 
sacred  uses,  and  written  in  the  hieroglyphic  signs,' after  both 
language  and  letters  had  in  popular  use  taken  on  another 
form  ;  tlie  Zend,  in  the  keeping  of  the  ministers  of  Zoro- 
aster's doctrine  ;  the  San.skrit,  even  yet  taught  in  the  Brah- 
manic  schools  of  India,  amid  the  Babel  of  modern  dialects, 
its  descendants  ;  the  Latin,  the  common  language  of  the 
educated  through  all  Europe,  for  centuries  during  which 
the  later  forms  of  llomanic  speech,  now  the  vehicles  of  a 
culture  superior  to  that  of  Grreece  and  Rome,  were  mere 
barbarous  ^a/'o/s.  Every  dialect  which  is  made  the  subject 
of  literary  culture  is  liable  to  the  fate  of  the  Latin  ;  aris- 
tocracy and  exclusiveness  tend  to  final  overthrow,  in  lan- 
guage as  in  politics  ;  the  needs  and  interests  of  the  many- 
are  more  important  than  those  of  the  few,  and  must  in  the 
end  prevail.  True  linguistic  conservatism  consists  in  estab- 
lishing an  educated  and  virtuous  democracy,  in  enlisting  the 
whole  community,  by  means  of  a  thorough  and  pervading 
education,  in  the  proper  and  healthy  preservation  of  the 
accepted  usages  of  correct  speech — and  then  in  letting 
whatever  change  must  and  will  come  take  its  course.  There 
is  a  purism  which,  while  it  seeks  to  maintain  the  integrity 
of  language,  in  efiect  stifles  its  growth  :  to  be  too  fearful  of 
new  words  and  phrases,  new  meanings,  familiar  and  collo- 
quial expressions,  is  little  less  fatal  to  the  Avell-being  of  a 
Bpoken  tongue  than  to  rush  into  the  opposite  extreme. 

It  is  hardly  needful  to  point  out  that  these  desirable  con- 
ditions are  much  more  nearly  realized  in  the  case  of  our 
modern  cultivated  and  literary  languages  than  in  those  of 
olden  time,  and  that  the  former  have,  in  all  human  proba- 
bility, a  destiny  before  them  \ery  difl'erent  from  that  of  the 
latter.  In  the  present  constitution  of  society,  •  among  the 
enlightened  nations  of  Europe  and  America,  the  forces  con- 
Bervati^e  of  the  general  purity  of  language  have  attained  a 


I 


TV.]  LITERARY   LANGUAGES.  151 

cleYelopment  and  energy  to  wtich  only  a  distant  approach 
was  made  under  tlie  most  favourable  circumstances  in 
ancient  times.  The  conscious  and  reflective  users  of  speech, 
the  instructed  and  cultivated,  th?  writers  of  their  thoughts, 
have  become  everywhere  a  claPs  powerful  in  numbers  as  well 
as  dominant  in  influence.  Education,  no  longer  confined 
to  the  upper  layer,  more  or  less  pervades  the  whole  mass  of 
the  people.  Books  are  in  every  one's  hands,  assimilating 
and  establishing  the  written  and  spoken  usages  of  all.  That 
form  of  the  common  speech  in  each  country  which  has 
enlisted  in  its  support  the  best  minds,  the  sweetest  and  most 
sonorous  tongues,  is  ever  gaining  ground  upon  the  others, 
supplanting  their  usages,  and  promising  to  become  and  to 
continue  the  true  popular  language. 

In  America,  the  influences  we  have  now  been  considering 
wear  a  somewhat  peculiar  form.  On  the  one  hand,  the 
educated  class  nowhere  else  embraces  so  large  a  portion  of 
the  community,  or  has  so  vast  a  collective  force  ;  on  the 
other  hand,  and  partly  for  this  very  reason,  the  highest  and 
best-educated  class  have  less  power  here  than  in  the  less 
democratic  countries  of  the  Old  World  :  the  low-toned  party 
newspaper  is  too  much  the  type  of  the  prevailing  literary 
influence  by  which  the  style  of  speech  of  our  rising  gener- 
ation is  moulding.  A  tendency  to  slang,  to  colloquial 
inelegancies,  and  even  vulgarities,  is  the  besetting  sin 
against  which  we,  as  Americans,  have  especially  to  guard  and 
to  struggle.  To  attain  that  thorough  democracy  which  is 
the  best  life  and  vigour  of  languas^e,  to  keep  our  English 
speech  vivid  Avith  the  thought  and  feeling  of  a  whole  people, 
we  should  not  bring  down  the  tone  and  style  of  the  highest, 
nor  average  those  of  all  classes  ;  we  should  rather  lift  up  the 
lower  to  the  level  of  the  higher. 

Our  review  of  the  causes  which  determine  the  respective 
part  played  by  tlie  different  processes  of  linguistic  growth, 
and  the  rate  at  which  they  severally  act,  is  far  from  being 
'Exhaustive.  To  treat  the  subject  with  thoroughness  would 
req- lire  a  treatise.  Parts  of  it  are  of  extreme  subtlety  and 
difficulty.  Our  attention  has  been  directed  almost  solely  to 
ext(!rnal  historical  circumstances,  those  of  which  the  effect 


152  OTHER    INFLUENCES    AFFECTING    THE  [lECT, 

ia  most  easily  traced.  AVe  have  but  hinted  here  and  there 
at  the  more  recondite  and  mo.-st  potent  influences  which  are 
deep-seated  in  the  individual  character  of  different  tongues 
and  the  qualities  of  the  people  who  speak  tliem.  That 
complex  and  intricate  combination  of  native  capacities  and 
dispositions,  acquired  and  inherited  habits,  and  guiding 
circumstances,  of  which,  in  each  individual  community,  the 
form  and  development  of  the  common  speech  is  a  product,  ia 
in  no  two  communities  the  same,  and  everywhere  requires  a 
special  and  detailed  study  in  order  to  its  comprehension. 
Ethnologists  are  obliged,  in  the  main,  to  take  the  differences 
of  national  character  as  ultimate  facts,  content  with  setting 
them  clearly  forth,  not  claiming  to  explain  them ;  and  a  like 
necessity  rests  upon  the  linguist  as  regards  linguistic  differ- 
ences :  not  only  can  he  not  account  for  the  presence  of 
peculiarities  of  character  which  determine  peculiarities  of 
speech,  but  even  their  analysis  eludes  his  search ;  they 
manifest  themselves  only  in  these  special  effects,  and  are  not 
otherwise  demonstrable.  To  ascribe  the  differences  of  lan- 
guage and  linguistic  growth  directly  to  "  physical  causes,"  to 
make  them  dependent  on  "  peculiarities  of  organization,'* 
whether  cerebral,  laryngal,  or  other,  is  wholly  meaningless 
and  futile.  Language  is  not  a  physical  product,  but  a 
human  institution,  preserved,  perpetuated,  and  changed,  by 
free  human  action.  Nothing  but  education  and  habit  limits 
any  man  to  the  idiom  in  the  possession  of  which  he  has  grown 
up  ;  within  the  community  of  speakers  of  the  same  tongue 
may  readily  be  found  persons  with  endowments  as  unlike,  in 
degree  and  kind,  as  those  which  characterize  the  average  men 
of  distant  and  diverse  races.  Physical  causes  do,  indeed, 
affect  language,  but  only  in  two  ways :  first,  as  they  change 
the  circumstances  to  which  men  have  to  adapt  their  speech  ; 
and  second,  as  they  alter  men's  nature  and  disposition. 
Every  physical  cause  requires  to  be  transmuted  into  a  niotivo 
or  a  mental  tendency,  before  it  can  affect  the  signs  by  which 
we  represent  our  mental  acts.  It  is  universally  conceded 
that  pljysical  circumstances  do  produce  a  permanent  efVcct 
upon  the  cliaracteristics  of  race,  internal  as  well  as  external^ 
and  so  upon  those,  among  the  rest,  which  govern  linguistic 


IV.]  RATE   OF   LINGUISTIC   CHANGE.  153 

developmeut  ;    but    in    what    measure,    at   what   rate,   and 
through  what  details  of  change,  is  as  yet  matter  of  the  widest 
diffe'^ence  of  opinion  and  the  liveliest  controversy.      There 
are  headlong  materialists  who  pronounce  man  the  slave  and 
sport  of  nature,  guided  and  controlled  by  the  external  forces 
amid  which  he  exists,  and  who  claiin  that  his  history  may  be 
explained  and  foretold   by   means  of  a  knowledge   of  those 
forces  ;   when  as  yet  they  have  not  found  out  even  the  A-B- 
C  of  the  modes  in   which   human   nature  is   moulded  by  its 
surroundings.       These    men    have    their   counterparts   also 
among  students  of  language.      But,   whatever  may  be  hoped 
from  the  future,  it  is  certain  that  at  present  nothing  of  value 
has    been   done   toward   showing   how   linguistic    growth   ia 
affected  in  its  kind  and  rate  by  physical  causes.     There  is  no 
human  dialect  which  might   not   maintain    itself  essentially 
unaltered  in  structure,  though  carried  to  clime?  very  unlike 
those  in  which  it  had  grown  up,  and  tliough  eniployed  by   a 
people  Avhose   cullure  and  mode  of  life  was  rapidly  varyiag; 
emigration,  often  assumed  to  be  the  chief  and  most  powerful 
cause  of  linguistic  change,  also  often  appears  to  exercise  a 
conservative  influence.      And,  on  the  other  hand,  a  laniruage 
may  rapidly  disintegrate,  or   undergo   phonetic   transform- 
ation, or  vary  the  substance  of  its  vocabulary,  without  mov- 
ing from  the  region  of  its  origin,  or  becoming  the  organ  of 
other  conditions  of  human   life.      AVhen   linguistic   scholars 
can  fully  account  for  such  facts  as  that  the  Icelandic  is  the 
most  antique  in  form  of  the  idioms  of  its  family,  that  the 
Lithuanian  has  preserved  more  of  the  primitive  apparatus  of 
Indo-European  inflection  than  any  other  known   tongue  of 
modern  times,  that  the  Armenian  has  become  with  difficulty 
recognizable    as   an   Iranian   dialect,   that  the   Melanesian, 
African,  and  American  languages  are  the  most  changeful  of 
human  forms  of  speech — then,  perhaps,  thej  may  claim  to 
comprehend  the  circumstances  that  regulate  the  growth  of 
language. 

l^he  variation  of  language  in  space,  its  change  from 
one  region  to  another,  is  a  not  les^  obvious  fact  than  its 
variation  in  time,  its  change  from  one  epoch  to  another. 
The  earth  is  filled  with  almost  numberless  dialects,  differing 


154  CAUSES  AFFECTING  [lECT. 

from  one  another  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  and  some  of 
tliem,  at  least,  we  know  by  historical  evidence  to  be  descend- 
ants of  a  common  original.  This  state  of  things  finds  its 
ready  and  simple  explanatioa  in  the  principles  which  have 
been  already  laid  down ;  they  will  demand,  therefore,  but  a 
brief  application  and  further  illustration. 

We  have  been  speaking,  wheu  treating  of  the  growth  of 
language,  of  vital  processes,  as  going  on  in  the  body  of 
epeech  itself,  like  the  process  of  fermentation  in  bread,  or  of 
the  displacement  and  replacement  of  tissues  in  an  animal 
organism.  But  we  have  been  careful,  at  the  same  time,  to 
bear  in  mind  that  the  Avord  "  process  ■'  was  thus  used  only  in 
a  figurative  sense.  Every  item  of  change  which  goes  to 
make  up  the  growth  of  hunuin  speech  is  ultimately  a  result 
of  the  conscious  efibrt  of  human  beings.  In  language,  the 
atoms  which  compose  tlie  fermenting  mass  and  the  growing 
tissue  are  not  inert  tnatter,  acted  on  by  laws  of  combination 
and  affinity,  but  intelligent  creatures,  themselves  acting  for 
a  purpose.  A  process  of  linguistic  growth,  then,  is  only  the 
collective  efiect,  in  a  given  direction,  of  the  acts  of  a  number 
of  separate  individuals,  guided  by  the  preferences,  and  con- 
trolled by  the  assent,  of  the  community  of  which  those  indi- 
viduals form  a  part.  And  upon  the  joint  and  reciprocal 
action  on  language  of  the  iiidividiud  and  the  community 
depend  all  the  phenomena  of  dialectic  separation  and  co- 
alescence. 

For,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  evident  that  the  infinite  diver- 
sity of  character  and  circumstance  in  the  intelligent  beings 
who  have  language  in  charge  must  tend  to  infinite  diversity 
in  their  action  and  its  products.  Each  independent  mind, 
working  unrestrainedly  according  to  its  own  impulses,  would 
impress  upon  the  development  of  speech  a  somewhat  different 
history.  It  was  shown  almost  at  the  beginning  of  our  dis- 
cussions (p.  22)  that  no  two  men  speak  exactly  the  same 
tongue  :  of  course,  then,  they  would  not  propagate  the  same. 
Each  has  his  own  vocabulary,  his  own  pet  words  and  phrases, 
his  own  deviations  from  the  normal  staiulard  of  pronunciation, 
of  construction,  of  grammar;  the  needs  of  each  arc  in  some 
degree  unlike  those  of  others ;  his  mind  is  somewhat  differ* 


tV.]  THE    GROWTH    OF    DIALECTS.  155 

ently  impressed  and  guided  by  feelings  and  experiences, 
differently  swayed  by  the  weight  of  existing  analogies.  Such 
tendency  to  variation  is,  to  be  sure,  within  comparatively 
narrow  limits ;  individual  speakers  of  English  would  not,  if 
left  to  their  own  devices,  rush  madly  off  toward  a  Choctaw 
or  Kamchatkan  model  of  speech  ;  yet  its  results  are  by  no 
means  imperceptible  or  insignificant ;  it  is  like  the  variation 
of  the  separate  individuals  of  a  species  of  plants  or  animals 
in  respect  to  traits  of  structure  and  disposition,  which,  how- 
ever slow  its  progress,  would  finally,  if  suffered  to  accumu- 
late its  eftects,  break  up  the  species  into  well-marked 
varieties.  Lmguistic  development  is  thus  made  up,  as  we 
may  fairly  express  it,  of  an  infinity  of  divergent  or  centrifu- 
gal forces. 

But,  in  the  second  place,  there  is  not  wanting  an  effective 
centripetal  force  also,  which  holds  all  the  others  in  check, 
which  resolves  them,  giving  value  to  that  part  of  each  which 
makes  in  a  certain  direction,  and  annulling  the  rest :  this 
centripetal  force  is  the  necessity  of  communication.  Man. 
is  no  soliloquist :  he  does  not  talk  for  his  own  diversion  and 
edification,  but  for  converse  with  his  fellows  ;  and  that  would 
not  be  language  which  one  individual  alone  should  under- 
stand and  be  able  to  employ.  Every  one  is,  indeed,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  engaged  in  his  way  and  measure  in  modi- 
fying language  ;  but  no  one's  action  affects  the  general 
speech,  unless  it  is  accepted  by  others,  and  ratified  in  their 
use.  Every  sign  which  I  utter,  I  utter  by  a  voluntary  effort 
of  my  organs,  over  which  my  will  has  indefeasible  control  ; 
I  may  alter  the  sign  as  I  please,  and  to  any  extent,  even  to 
that  of  substituting  for  it  some  other  wholly  now  sign;  only, 
if  by  so  doing  I  shock  the  sense  of  those  about  me,  or  make 
myself  unintelligible  to  them,  I  defeat  the  very  end  for  which 
I  speak  at  all.  This  is  the  consideration  which  restrains  me 
from  arbitrariness  and  license  in  the  modification  of  my 
speech,  and  which  makes  me  exert  my  individual  influence 
upon  it  only  through  and  by  the  community  of  which  I  am 
a  member.  If  those  who  form  one  community  do  not  talk 
alike,  and  cannot  understand  one  another,  the  fundamental 
and  essential  office  of  speech  is  not  fulfilled.      Hence,  what* 


156  CAUSES   AFPECTIXG  [lE(JT, 

ever  cliauges  a  language  may  undergo,  they  must  all  be 
shared  in  by  the  whole  community.  The  idiosyncrasies,  the 
sharp  angles  and  jutting  corners,  of  every  man's  idiom  must 
be  worn  off  by  attrition  against  those  with  which  it  comes  in 
contact  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life,  that  the  common 
tongue  may  become  a  rounded  unit.  This  does  not  imply 
an  absolute  identity  of  dialect,  down  to  the  smallest  details, 
among  all  the  constituent  members  of  a  community  ;  within 
certain  limits — which,  though  not  strictly  definable,  are 
sufficiently  distinct  and  coercive  to  answer  their  practical 
purpose  perfectly  well — each. one  may  be  as  original  as  he 
pleases :  he  may  push  his  oddity  and  obscurity  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  whimsical  and  the  incomprehensible — or  even 
beyond  it,  if  he  do  not  mind  being  misunderstood  and 
laughed  at ;  if  his  sense  of  his  own  individuality  be  so  ex- 
aggerated that  he  is  a  whole  community,  a  world,  to  himself. 
Nor  must  the  word  community,  as  used  with  reference  to 
language,  be  taken  in  a  too  restricted  or  definite  sense.  It 
has  various  degrees  of  extension,  and  bounds  within  bounds  : 
the  same  person  may  belong  to  more  than  one  community, 
using  in  each  a  different  idiom.  Eor  instance :  I  have,  as 
we  may  suppose,  a  kind  of  home  dialect,  containing  a  certain 
proportion  of  baby-talk,  and  a  larger  of  favourite  colloquial- 
isms, which  would  sound  a  little  queerly,  if  they  were  not 
unintelligible,  to  any  one  outside  of  my  family  circle  ;  as  an 
artisan,  pursuing  a  special  branch  of  manufacture  or  trade, 
or  as  one  engaged  in  a  particular  profession,  or  study,  or 
department  of  art,  I  am  a  member  of  another  community, 
speaking  a  language  to  some  extent  peculiar,  and  which 
Avould  be  understood  neither  by  my  wife  and  children  nor 
by  the  majority  of  speakers  of  English.  Thus,  I  may  have 
dived  deep  into  the  mysteries  of  some  scheme  of  tran- 
scendental philosophy,  or  searched  and  pondered  the  ulti- 
mate pliysical  constitution  of  atoms  ;  and,  if  I  should  dis- 
course to  a  tjeneral  audience  of  that  which  to  me  is  full  of 
profoundest  significance  and  interest,  while  one  out  of 
twenty,  perha])s,  would  follow  me  with  admiring  apprecia- 
tion, to  the  other  nineteen  I  should  seem  an  incomprehensi- 
ble  ranter.      But   even  as   a   general    speaker   of    English, 


IV.]  THE   GROWTH    OF    DIALECTS.  157 

qualified  to  me  it  and  converse  intelligently  with  others  who 
claim  the  same  title,  upon  matters  of  import  to  us   all,  I 
may  have  my  speech  marked  more  or   less   strongly   with 
local  or  personal  peculiarities  ;  it  may  exhibit  unusual  tonea 
of  utterance,  or  unusual  turns  of  plirase,  which,  if  I  would 
be  readily  and  thoroughly  understood,  I  must  endeavour  to 
avoid.     Now  all  these  differences  of  speech,  limited  as  their 
range  may  be,  are  in  their  essential  nature  dialectic  ;  the 
distinction  between  such  idioms,  as  we  may  properly  style 
them,  and  well-marked  dialects,  or  related  but  independent 
languages,  is  one,  not  of  kind,  but  only  of  degree.      For  I 
also  possess  a  considerable  portion  of  my  language  in  com- 
mon with  the  Netherlander,  the  German,  and  the  Swede,  to 
say  nothing  of  my  remoter  relations,  the  liussian,  the  Per- 
sian, and  the  Hindu  ;    and  if,  in   talking  with  any  one  of 
them,  I  could  only  manage  to  leave  out  of  my  conversation 
such  words  as  belong,  to  my  dialect  alone,  and  moreover,  not 
to  pronounce  the  rest  with  such  a  local  peculiarity  of  tone, 
nor  give  them  such  special  shades  of   meaning,  he   and   I 
might  get  along  together  famously,  each  of  us  understanding 
all  the  other  said.      I  can,  indeed,   make  calculations   and 
compose  mathematical  formulas  with  him  all  day  long ;  or,  if 
Ave  are  chemists,  we  can  compare  our  views  as  to  the  consti- 
tution of  all  substances,  organic  and  inorganic,  to  our  mu- 
tual edification  ;    since,  as  regards  their  mathematical   and 
chemical  language,  their   systems  of  notation  and  nomen- 
clature, all  who  share  European  civilization  form  but  a  single 
community. 

There  is  room,  then,  for  all  that  diversity  which  was  shown 
in  our  first  lecture  to  belong  to  the  speech  of  different  indi- 
viduals and  different  classes  in  the  same  community,  along 
with  that  general  correspondence  which  makes  them  speakers 
of  the  same  language.  The  influence  of  community  works 
in  various  degrees,  and  within  various  limits,  according  to 
the  nature  and  extent  of  the  community  by  which  it  is 
exercised.  The  whim  of  a  child  and  the  assent  of  its 
parents  may  make  a  change  in  the  family  idiom  ;  the  con- 
sent of  all  the  artisans  in  a  certain  branch  of  mechanical 
labour  is  enough  to  give  a  new  term  the  right  to  stand  in 


158  CAUSES   AFFECTING  [lECT. 

tlieir  tec.  Tiicnl  vocabulary  ;  the  majority  of  good  writers  and 
speakers  of  English  is  the  only  authority  which  can  make 
a  word  good  English  in  the  part  of  our  tongue  that  we  all 
alike  use  and  value ;  while  all  the  learned  of  Europe  must 
join  together,  in  order  to  alter  the  notation  of  a  number,  or 
the  symbol  of  a  chemical  element.  But  the  principle  is 
everywhere  the  same :  as  mutual  intelligibility  is  the  bond 
which  makes  the  unity  of  a  language,  so  the  necessity  of 
mutual  intelligibility  is  the  power  which  preserves  and  per- 
petuates that  unity. 

If  communication  is  thus  the  assimilating  force  which 
averages  and  harmonizes  the  effects  of  discordant  individual 
action  on  language,  keeping  it,  notwithstanding  its  incessant 
changes,  the  same  to  all  the  members  of  the  same  community, 
then  it  is  clear  that  everj'thing  which  narrows  communica- 
tion, and  tends  to  the  isolation  of  communities,  favours  the 
separation  of  a  language  into  dialects;  while  all  that  extends 
communication,  and  strengthens  the  ties  which  bind  together 
the  parts  of  a  community,  tends  to  preserve  the  homogeneity 
of  speech.  Suppose  a  race,  occupying  a  certain  tract  of 
country,  to  possess  a  single  tongue,  which  all  understand 
and  use  alike :  then,  so  long  as  the  race  is  confined  within 
narrow  limits,  however  rapidly  its  language  may  yield  to  the 
irresistible  forces  which  produce  linguistic  growth,  all  will 
learn  from  each,  and  each  from  all ;  and,  from  generation  to 
generation,  every  man  will  understand  his  neighbour,  what- 
ever difficulty  he  might  find  in  conversing  with  the  spirit  of 
his  great-grandfather,  or  some  yet  remoter  ancestor.  But  if 
the  race  grows  in  numbers,  spreading  itself  over  region  after 
region,  sending  out  colonies  to  distant  lands,  its  uniformity 
of  speech  is  exposed  to  serious  danger,  and  can  only  be  saved 
by  specially  favouring  circumstances  and  conditions.  And 
tliese  conditions  are  yet  more  exclusively  of  an  external 
cliaracter  than  those  which,  as  we  lately  saw,  determine  the 
mode  and  rate  of  linguistic  change  in  general:  they  consist 
mainlv  in  the  kind  and  degree  of  culture  enioved  and  the 
elh'cts  wliich  this  naturally  produces.  In  a  low  state  of 
./civilization,  the  maintenance  of  community  over  a  wide 
extent  of  countiy  is  altogether  impracticable ;  the  tendency 


rV.]  THE    GROWTH    OF    DIALECTS.  159 

to  segregation  is  paramount ;  local  and  clannish  feelincj 
prevails,  stifling  the  growth  of  any  wider  and  nobler 
sense  of  national  unity  and  common  interests ;  each  little 
tribe  or  section  is  jealous  of  and  dreads  the  rest  ;  the 
struggle  for  existence  arrays  them  in  hostility  against  each 
other;  or,  at  the  best,  the  means  of  constant  and  thorough 
communication  among  individuals  of  the  different  parts  of 
the  country  is  wanting,  along  with  the  feelings  which  should 
impel  to  it.  Thus  all  the  diversifying  tendencies  are  left  to 
run  their  course  unchecked  ;  varieties  of  circumstance  and 
experience,  the  subtler  and  more  indirect  influences  of 
climate  and  mode  of  life,  the  yet  more  undefinable  agencies 
which  have  their  root  in  individual  and  national  caprice, 
gradually  accumulate  their  discordant  effects  about  separate 
centres,  and  local  varieties  of  speech  arise,  which  grow  into 
dialects,  and  these  into  distinct  and,  finally,  widely  dissimilar 
languages.  The  rate  at  which  this  separation  will  go  on 
depends,  of  course,  in  no  small  degree,  upon  the  general 
rate  of  change  of  the  common  speech  ;  as  the  dialects  can 
only  become  different  by  growing  apart,  a  sluggishness  of 
growth  w^ill  keep  them  longer  together — and  that,  not  by  its 
direct  operation  alone,  but  also  by  giving  the  weak  forces  of 
an  imperfect  and  scanty  communication  opportunity  to  work 
more  effectively  in  counteraction  of  the  others.  Thus  all 
the  influences  which  have  already  been  referred  to  as  re- 
stricting the  variation  of  a  lann:ua2:e  from  e-eneration  to 
generation  are,  as  such,  equally  effective  in  checking  its 
variation  from  portion  to  portion  of  a  people.  But  the 
most  important  of  them  also  contribute  to  the  same  result 
in  another  way,  by  directly  strengthening  and  extending  the 
bonds  of  community.  Culture  and  enlightenment  give  a 
wonderful  cohesive  force ;  they  render  possible  a  wide  po- 
litical unitv,  maintenance  of  the  same  institutions,  jrovarn- 
ment  under  the  same  laws  ;  they  facilitate  community  of 
memories  and  traditions,  and  foster  nation?.!  feeling ;  they 
create  the  wants  and  tastes  which  lead  the  people  of  differ- 
ent regions  to  mix  with  and  aid  one  anot-her,  and  they 
furnish  the  means  of  ready  and  frequent  intercourse:  all  of 
which  make  powerfully  for  linguistic  unity  also.      A.  tra« 


J.CO  CAUSES  BRIKOINQ  ABOUT  [LECT. 

ditional  literature,  sacred  or  heroic,  tends  effectively  in  the 
same  direction.  But  of  more  account  than  all  is  a  written 
literature,  and  an  organized  and  pervading  system  of  in- 
struction, whereby  the  same  expressions  for  thought,  fecl- 
iniT,  and  experience  are  set  as  mo.lels  before  the  eyes  of  all, 
ani  the  most  far-reaching  and  effective  style  of  linguistic 
communication  is  established. 

Moreover,  that  same  necessity  of  mutual  understanding 
which  makes  and  preserves  the  identity  of  language  through- 
out a  community  has  power  also  to  bring  forth  identity  out 
of  diversity.  No  necessary  and  indissoluble  tie  binds  any 
human  being  to  his  own  personal  and  local  peculiarities  of 
idiom,  or  even  to  his  mother-tongue  ;  habit  and  convenience 
alone  make  them  his  ;  he  is  ever  ready  to  give  them  up  for 
others,  when  circumstances  make  it  worth  his  while  to  do  so. 
The  coarse  and  broad-mouthed  rustic  whom  the  force  of 
inborn  character  and  talent  brings  up  to  a  position  among 
cultivated  men,  wears  off  the  rudeness  of  his  native  dialect, 
and  learns  to  speak  as  correctly  and  elegantly,  perhaps,  aa 
one  who  has  been  trained  from  his  birth  alter  the  best 
models.  Those  who  come  up  from  among  the  dialects  of 
every  part  of  Britain  to  seek  their  fortune  in  the  metropolis 
acquire  some  one  of  the  forms  of  English  speech  which 
flourish  there  ;  and,  even  if  they  themselves  are  unable  ever 
to  rid  themselves  wholly  of  provincialisms,  their  children 
may  grow  up  as  thorough  cockneys  as  if  their  fiimilies  had 
never  lived  out  of  hearing  of  Bow  bells.  Any  one  of  us  who 
goes  to  a  foreign  land  and  settles  there,  identifying  himself 
with  a  community  of  strange  speech,  learns  to  talk  with 
them,  as  well  as  his  previously  formed  habits  will  let  him, 
and  between  his  descendants  and  theirs  there  will  be  no 
dilference  of  language,  however  unlike  they  may  be  in  hue 
and  feature.  If  adventurers  of  various  race  and  tongue 
combine  themselves  together  in  a  colony  and  take  up  their 
abode  in  some  \sild  country,  their  speech  at  once  begins  to 
undergo  a  process  of  assimilation,  which  sooner  or  later 
makes  it  one  and  homoi;encous  :  how  rapidly  this  end  shall 
be  attained,  and  whether  some  one  element  shall  absorb  the 
rest,  or  whether  all  shall  contribute  equally  to  the  resulting 


IV.]  ASSIMILATION   OF   DIALECTS.  161 

dialect,  must  be  determined  by  tbe  special  circumstances  of 
the  case.  Of  the  multitudes  of  Germans  whom  emigration 
brings  to  our  shores,  some  establish  themselves  together  iij 
considerable  numbers :  they  cover  with  their  settlements  a 
tract  in  the  AVest,  or  fill  a  quarter  in  some  of  our  large 
towns  and  cities.  They  form,  then,  a  kind  of  community  of 
their  own,  in  the  midst  of  the  greater  community  which 
surrounds  them,  having  numerous  points  of  contact  with 
the  latter,  but  not  absorbed  into  its  structure  :  there  are 
enough  speakers  of  English  among  them  to  furnish  all  the 
means  of  communication  with  the  world  about  them  which 
they  need ;  they  are  proud  of  their  German  nationality  and 
cling  to  it ;  they  have  their  own  schools,  papers,  books, 
preachers — and  their  language,  though  sure  to  yield  finally 
to  the  assimilating  influences  which  surround  it,  may  be 
kept  up,  possibly,  for  generations.  So  also  with  a  crowd  of 
Irish,  clustered  together  in  a  village  or  suburb,  breeding  in 
and  in,  deriving  their  scanty  instruction  from  special  schools 
under  priestly  care :  their  characteristic  brogue  and  other 
peculiarities  of  word  and  phrase  may  have  an  indefinite  lease 
of  life.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  families  of  foreign  nation- 
ality scattered  in  less  numbers  among  us  can  make  no 
efi'ective  resistance  to  the  force  which  tends  to  identify  them 
thoroughly  with  the  community  of  English  speakers,  and 
their  language  is  soon  given  up  for  ours. 

There  is  evidently  no  limit  to  the  scale  upon  which  such 
fusion  and  assimilation  of  speech  may  go  on.  The  same 
causes  which  lead  an  individual,  or  family,  or  group  of  fami- 
lies, to  learn  and  use  another  tongue  than  that  which  they 
themselves  or  their  fathers  have  been  accustomed  to  speak, 
may  be  by  historical  circumstances  made  operative  through- 
out a  whole  class,  or  over  a  whole  region.  When  two  com- 
munities are  combined  into  one,  there  comes  to  be  but  one 
language  where  before  there  were  two.  A  multiplication  and 
strengthening  of  the  ties  which  bind  together  the  difierent 
sections  of  one  people  tends  directly  toward  the  effacement 
of  already  existing  varieties  of  dialect,  and  the  production  of 
linguistic  uniformity. 

Such  efiacement  ai:d  assimilation  of  dialectic  varieties,  net 

11 


162  HIST'iRY   OF   THE  [lECT, 

leas  tlian  dissimilation  and  the  formation  of  new  dialects,  are 
all  t]\e  time  going  on  in  human  communities,  according  as 
conditions  favour  the  one  or  the  other  class  of  effects;  and  a 
due  consideration  of  both  is  necessary,  if  we  would  compre- 
hend the  history  of  any  tongue,  or  family  of  tongues.  Let 
us  look  at  one  or  two  examples,  which  shall  serve  to  illus- 
trate their  joint  and  mutual  workings,  and  to  set  forth 
more  clearly  the  truth  of  the  principles  we  have  laid  down. 

AVe  will  consider  first  the  history  of  that  one  among  the 
prominent  literary  languages  of  the  present  day  which  has 
most  recently  attained  its  position,  namely  the  Grerman. 
From  the  earliest  dawn  of  history,  Grermany  has  been  filled 
with  a  multitude  of  more  or  less  discordant  dialects,  each 
occupying  its  own  limited  territory,  and  no  one  of  them 
better  entitled  than  any  other  to  set  itself  up  as  the  norm 
of  correct  Grerman  speech.  How  far  back  their  separation 
goes,  it  is  impossible  to  tell  ;  whence,  when,  and  how  the 
first  Grermanic  tribe  entered  central  Europe,  that  its  tongue 
might  become  there  the  mother  of  so  many  languages,  crowd- 
ing Grermany  and  Scandinavia,  and  spreading,  through  Eng- 
land, even  to  the  shores  and  prairies  of  a  new  world ;  or 
whether  the  beginnings  of  dialectic  division  were  made  before 
the  entrance  of  the  race  into  its  present  seats — these  are 
secrets  which  will  never  be  fully  disclosed.  There  were 
sweeping  changes  in  the  range  and  character  of  the  Ger- 
manic dialects  during  those  ages  of  migration  and  strife 
when  Grermany  and  Home  were  carrying  on  their  life  and 
death  struggle.  Whole  branches  of  the  German  race,  among 
tliem  some  of  the  most  renowned  and  mighty,  as  the  Goths 
and  Vandals,  wholly  lost  their  existence  as  separate  com- 
munities, being  scattered  and  absorbed  into  other  com- 
munities, and  their  languages  also  ceased  to  exist.  Leagues 
and  migrations,  intestine  strug;^lcs  and  foreign  conquests, 
produced  fusions  and  absorptions,  extensions,  contractions, 
and  extinctions,  in  manifold  variety  ;  but  without  any 
tendency  .to  a  general  unity :  and  three  centuries  and  a  half 
ago,  when  the  modern  German  first  put  forth  its  claim  to 
stand  as  the  common  language  of  Germany,  there  was  in 
that  country  the  samo  Babel  of  discordant  speech  as  at  the 


rV.]  GERMAN    LANGUAGE.  163 

Cliristian  era.  Since  the  introduction  of  Christianity  and 
the  beginnings  of  civilization,  more  than  one  of  the  High- 
German  dialects,  as  they  are  called,  the  dialects  of  central 
and  southern  Grermany,  had  been  for  a  season  the  subject 
of  literary  culture.  This  was  the  case  with  the  idioms,  in 
succession,  of  the  Alemannic,  Prankish,  and  Bavarian  divi- 
sions of  the  race,  between  the  seventh  and  the  thirteenth 
centuries  ;  then,  for  a  time,  the  Swabian  dialect  gained  the 
preeminence,  and  in  it  was  produced  a  rich  and  noble  legend- 
ary literature,  containing  precious  memorials  of  national 
heroic  story,  and  still  studied  aud  valued  wherever  the  Ger- 
man tongue  is  spoken.  Here  was  a  promising  beginning  for 
a  truly  national  language,  but  the  conditions  of  the  times 
were  not  yet  such  as  to  give  the  movement  lasting  and  assured 
success.  Three  centuries  later  began  the  grand  national  up- 
heaval of  the  Keformatiou.  The  writings  of  Luther,  multi- 
plied and  armed  with  a  hundred-fold  force  by  the  new  art  of 
printing,  penetrated  to  all  parts  of  the  land,  and  to  nearly 
all  ranks  and  classes  of  the  people,  awakening  everywhere  a 
vivid  enthusiasm.  The  language  he  used  was  not  the  local 
dialect  of  a  district,  but  one  which  had  already  a  better 
claim  than  any  other  to  the  character  of  a  general  German 
language  :  it  was  the  court  and  official  speech  of  the  principal 
kingdoms  of  central  and  southern  Germany,  made  up  of 
Swabian,  Austrian,  and  other  dialectic  elements.*  To  a  lan- 
guage so  accredited,  the  internal  impulse  of  the  religious 
excitement  and  the  political  revolutions  accompanying  it, 
and  the  external  influence  of  the  press,  which  brought  its 
literature,  and  especially  Luther's  translation  of  the  Bible, 
into  every  reading  family,  were  enough  to  give  a  common 
currency,  a  general  value.  It  was  set  before  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  nation  as  the  most  cultivated  form  of  German  speech  ; 
it  was  acknowledged  and  accepted  as  the  dialect  of  highest 
rank,  the  only  fitting  organ  of  communication  among  the 
educated  and  refined.  From  that  time  to  the  present,  its 
influence  and  power  have  gone  on  increasing.  It  is  tLa 
vehicle  of  literature  and  instruction  every wdiere.  Whatever 
may  be  the  speech  of  the  lower  classes  in  any  section,  the 

*  See  Schleicher,  Deutsclie  Sprache,  p.  107  se^. 
11  ♦ 


164  THE    GERMAN    LANGUAGE.  [lKCT, 

educated,  those  who  make  up  good  society,  speak  the 
literary  German ;  their  children  are  trained  in  it ;  nothing 
else  is  written.  The  popular  dialects  are  still  as  numerous 
as  ever,  because  education  is  not  pervading  and  thorough 
enough  to  extirpate  them  ;  and  their  existence  may  be  pro- 
longed for  an  indefinite  period  ;  but  the  literary  language 
exercises  a  powerfully  repressing  and  assimilating  effect 
upon  them  all  ;  it  has  lessened  their  rank  and  lowered  their 
character,  by  withdrawing  from  them  in  great  measure  the 
countenance  and  aid  of  the  cultivated  ;  it  has  leavened  them 
all  with  its  material  and  its  usages  ;  and  it  may  finally 
succeed  in  crowding  them  altogether  out  of  use.  Its  sway 
extends  just  as  far  as  the  external  influences  which  estab- 
lished it  reach  :  it  is  not  confined  to  the  territory  occupied 
by  the  High-G-erman  dialects,  its  nearest  kindred  ;  the 
people  of  the  northern  provinces  also,  speaking  tongues  of 
Low- German  descent,  which  are  much  more  nearly  related 
with  the  Netherlandish,  or  even  with  the  English,  are  drawn 
by  the  ties  of  political,  social,  and  religious  community  with 
the  rest  of  Germany  to  accept  and  use  it.  While,  on  the 
other  hand,  political  independence,  aided  by  diversity  of 
social  and  religious  usages,  has  given  a  separate  existence 
as  a  literary  language  to  the  Dutch  or  Netherlandish,  and 
yet  more  notably  to  the  English,  descendants  of  dialects 
originally  undistinguished  among  the  crowd  of  Low-German 
idioms  which  lined  the  shores  of  the  North  Sea. 

The  history  of  most  other  literary  languages  is  of  the 
same  character  with  that  which  we  have  just  been  examin- 
ing.  Each  was,  at  the  outset,  one  out  of  a  number  of  kin- 
dred but  more  or  less  diverse  forms  of  speech,  and  the 
predominance  which  it  came  to  gain  over  them  was  the  re- 
sult, not  of  its  inherent  merits  as  an  instrument  of  thought 
and  means  of  communication,  but  of  outward  circumstances, 
which  made  its  usages  worth  the  acquisition  of  a  wider  and 
wider  community.  Thus  the  parent  language  of  the  modern 
French  was  the  vernacular  speech  of  only  a  small  part  of 
the  population  of  France  ;  and  it  long  had  a  rival,  and 
almost  a  superior,  in  the  early  and  highly  cultivated  dialect 
of  southern   France,   the    Provencal,   or   Jangue    d'oc ;    nor, 


IV.]  THE    LATIN    LANGUAGB.  165 

if  the  kingdom  of  Toulouse  had  maintained  itself,  woiJd  the 
latter  ever  have  yielded  to  the  former  :  but  the  sceptre  of 
political  supremacy  over  all  France  passed  into  the  keep- 
ing of  the  northern  provinces,  and  their  speech  became 
the  rule  of  good  usage  throughout  the  land,  while  the 
langue  d'oc  lost  by  degrees  its  character  as  a  cultivated 
dialect,  and  survives  only  in  rude  and  insignificant  provincial 
patois.  The  Italian  was,  in  like  manner,  the  popular  idiom 
only  of  Tuscany,  one  of  the  innumerable  local  dialects  which 
crowd  and  jostle  one  another  between  the  Alps  and  Sicily, 
and  its  currency  among  the  educated  classes  of  the  whole 
peninsula  is  the  efi'ect  of  literary  influence  and  of  instruc- 
tion. 

An   illustration    of    a    somewhat    diff*erent    character   is 
afl'orded  us  by  the  history  of  the  Latin,  a  history  in  many 
respects  more  remarkable  than  that  of  any  other  language 
which  has   ever  existed.     This  conquering  tongue — whose 
descendants  now  occupy  so  large  and  fair  a  part  of  Europe, 
and,  along  with  their  half-sister,  the  English,  fill  nearly  all 
the  New  World,  and  numerous  scattered  tracts,  coasts,  and 
islands,  on  every  continent  and  in  every  ocean,  while  its 
material  has  leavened  and  enriched  the  speech  of  all  enlight- 
ened nations — was    the    vernacular    idiom,  not  twenty-five 
centuries  ago,  of  a  little  isolated  district  in  middle  Italy,  a 
region  which,  on  any  map  of  the  world  not  drawn  upon  a 
scale  truly  gigantic,  one  might  easily  cover  with  the  end  of  a 
finger.     How  and  when  it  came  there,  we  know  not ;  but  it 
was  one  of  a  group  of  related  dialects,  descendants  and  joint 
representatives   of   an   older  tongue,   spoken    by   the    first 
immigrants,  which  had  grown  apart  by  the  effect  of  the  usual 
dissimilating  processes.     Hemains  of  at  least  two  of  these 
sister  dialects,  the  Oscan  and  the  Umbrian,  are  still  left  in 
existence,  to  exercise  the  ingenuity  of  the  learned,  and  to 
illustrate    the    ante-historic  period  of  Italic   speech.     The 
Latin  was  pressed  on  the  north  by  the  Etruscan,  and  threat- 
ened from  the  south  by  the  Greek,  languages  of  much  more 
powerful  races,  and  the  latter  of  them  possessing  a  higher 
intrinsic  character,  and  an  infinitely  superior  cultivation  :  no 
one  could  then  have  dared  to  guess  that  its  after  career 


166  HISTORY   OP    THE  [lECT. 

would  be  so  rmicTi  more  conspicuous  than  theirs.  Its  spread 
began  with  the  extension  of  Eoman  dominion,  aud  was  the 
plainest  and  most  unequivocal  sign  of  the  thorough  and 
penetrating  nature  of  that  dominion.  ]N"ot  content  with  the 
loose  and  nominal  sway  which  the  Persian  sovereign  exer- 
cised over  the  heterogeneous  parts  of  his  vast  empire,  or  tho 
yet  laxer  authority  of  the  modern  Mongol  rulers  over 
their  wider  conquests,  the  liomans  infused,  as  it  were,  a  new 
organic  life  into  the  vast  body  corporate  of  which  they  were 
the  head^  and  made  their  influence  felt  through  its  every 
nerve  and  fibre.  Italy  they  first  subjected  and  Romanized. 
The  yoke  they  imposed,  and  riveted  by  their  military  colonies, 
their  laws  and  institutions,  their  culture,  and  their  all-pene- 
trating administration,  was  a  bond  of  community  against 
Avhich  no  other  proved  able  to  maintain  itself;  all  the  lan- 
guai^es  of  the  peninsula,  from  the  Granlish  of  the  north  to 
the  Grreek  of  the  extreme  south,  gave  way  by  degrees  before 
the  tongue  of  the  conquering  city,  and  Italy  became  a 
country  of  one  uniform  speech.  Aud  yet  not  wholly 
uniform :  relics  of  the  ancient  languages  maintained  them- 
selves for  a  long  time  in  certain  more  inaccessible  districts, 
and  tlieir  influence  was  doubtless  to  be  distinctly  seen  in  the 
varying  local  dialects  of  the  diflerent  parts  of  the  peninsula 
— as,  indeed,  traces  of  it  are  even  now  discoverable  there. 
The  common  speech  of  Italy,  too,  setting  aside  these  dia- 
lectic distinctions,  was  not  the  pure  polished  Latin  of  Cicero 
and  Virgil,  but  a  ruder  idiom,  containing  already  the  germs 
of  many  of  the  changes  exhibited  by  the  modern  Italian  and 
the  other  E-omanie  tongues.  The  same  process  of  conquest 
and  incorporation  into  the  Eoman  community  was  carried 
farther,  upon  a  grand  and  surprising  scale,  into  the  other 
countries  of  Europe.  The  Celts  of  G-aul,  the  Celts  and 
Iberians  of  Spain,  gave  up  their  own  languages  and  adopted 
that  of  their  rulers  and  civilizers,  not  less  completely  than 
have  the  Celts  of  Ireland,  within  the  last  few  centuries, 
exchanged  their  Irish  speech  for  English :  of  Celtic  words 
aud  usages  only  scanty  and  unimportant  traces  are  to  be 
found  in  the  modern  French  and  Spanish.  The  same  fate 
threatened  Q-ermany,  had  not  her  Tbrave  and  hardy  tribes 


IV.]  LATIN   LANGUAGE.  167 

offered  too  stubborn  a  resistance  to  the  alreptdy  waning 
forces  of  the  empire  ;  and  Britain  also,  had  not  its  remota 
situation  and  inferior  value  as  a  province  caused  the  Roman 
hold  upon  it  to  be  weak,  and  soon  abandoned.  Less  con- 
siderable tracts  of  south-eastern  Europe,  stretching  from  the 
northern  border  of  Italy  to  near  the  mouth  of  the  Danube, 
yielded  to  the  same  influence  :  subdued  by  the  arms,  colo- 
nized from  the  population,  organized  by  the  policy,  civilized  . 
by  the  culture,  of  the  great  city,  they  learned  also  to  talk  ' 
her  language,  forgetting  their  own.  Thus  arose  the  great 
and  important  group  of  the  Romanic  languages,  as  they  are 
called ;  namely,  the  Italian,  the  French,  the  Spanish  and 
Portuguese,  the  Rhseto-Romanic  of  southern  Switzerland,  and 
the  Wallachian — each  including  a  host  of  varying  dialects, 
all  lineal  descendants  of  the  Latin,  all  spoken  by  populations 
only  in  small  part  of  Latin  race. 

We  must  not  suppose,  however,  that  a  pure  and  classical 
Latin  was  e\er  the  popular  dialect  of  this  wide-extended 
region  of  Europe,  any  more  than  of  Italy  after  its  first 
Romanization.  The  same  counteracting  causes,  acting  on  a 
grander  scale  and  with  an  intensified  force,  prevented  cor- 
rectness and  homogeneity  of  speech.  The  populace  got  their- 
Latin  rather  from  the  army  and  its  followers,  the  colonists 
and  low  ofiicials,  than  from  educated  Romans  and  the  works 
of  great  authors.  Doubtless  there  was  not  at  first  such  a 
difference  between  the  dialect  of  the  highest  and  of  the 
lowest  that  they  could  not  understand  one  another.  But, 
whatever  it  Avas,  it  rapidly  became  wiier:  while  study  and 
the  imitation  of  unchanging  models  kept  the  scholars  and 
ecclesiastics  in  possession  of  the  classical  Latin,  only  a  little 
barbarized  by  the  irresistible  intrusion  into  it  of  words  and 
constructions  borrowed  from  vernacular  use,  the  language  of 
the  masses  grew  rapidly  away  from  it,  breaking  up  at  the 
same  time  into  those  innumerable  local  forms  to  whose  exist- 
ence we  have  already  referred.  There  was  no  conserving  and 
assimilatinof  influence  at  work  among:  the  millions  who  had 
taken  for  their  own  the  language  of  Rome,  capable  either  of 
binding  them  fast  to  its  established  usages  or  of  keeping 
their  lines  of  linguistic  growth  parallel.     Special  disturbing 


168  DESCENDANTS  OF  THE  LATIN.         [lECT. 

forces  came  in  here  and  there.  Incursions  and  conquests  of 
German  tribes  brought  an  element  of  Grermanic  speech  into 
the  tongues  alike  of  Spain,  France,  and  Italy.  Centuries  of 
Saracen  domination  engrafted  upon  the  Spanish  language  a 
notable  store  of  words  of  Arabic  derivation.  AVhen,  at 
length,  the  dark  ages  of  European  history  were  over,  and 
knowledge  and  culture  were  to  be  taken  out  of  the  exclusive 
custody  of  the  few,  and  made  the  wealth  and  blesshig  of  the 
many,  the  Latin  was  a  dead  language,  much  too  far  removed 
from  popular  wants  and  sympathies  to  be  able  to  serve  the 
needs  of  the  new^  nations.  Hence  the  rise  in  each  separate 
country,  at  not  far  from  the  same  time,  of  a  new  national 
tongue,  to  be  the  instrument  and  expression  of  the  national 
culture.  All  E-omanized  Europe  was  in  the  condition  already 
described  as  that  of  Germany  prior  to  the  advancement  of  the 
modern  German  to  its  present  position ;  a  chaos  of  varying 
dialects  was  there ;  and,  in  every  case,  external  historical 
circumstances  determined  w^hich  of  them  should  attain  a 
higher  value,  and  should  subject  and  absorb  the  rest. 

In  all  this  alternate  and  repeated  divergence  and  converg- 
ence of  dialects  there  is  evidently  nothing  which  needs  to  be 
looked  upon  as  mysterious,  or  even  puzzling.  Such  has  been 
the  history  of  language  from  the  beginning,  and  in  all  parts 
of  the  earth.  We  need  only  the  tendency  of  individual 
language  to  vary,  and  the  eliect  of  community  to  check, 
limit,  and  even  reverse  this  tendency,  in  order  to  explain 
every  case  that  arises :  the  peculiar  conditions  of  each  case 
must  decide  whether  their  joint  action  shall,  on  the  whole, 
make  for  homogeneity  or  for  diversity  of  speech ;  and  the 
result,  in  kind  and  in  degree,  will  vary  according  to  the  sum 
of  the  causes  which  produced  it ;  as  the  resultant  motion,  in 
rate  and  direction,  combines  and  re])rcsents  all  the  forces, 
however  various  and  conflicting,  of  whose  united  action  it  is 
the  eff'ect. 

Thus,  as  has  been  already  pointed  out,  when  there  takes 
place  a  fusion  of  two  communities,  larger  or  smaller,  of 
varying  speech,  no  general  law  can  detcrniine  what  shall  be 
the  resulting  dialect.  AVhen  the  Homans  conquered  Gaul, 
although  forming  only  a  minority  of  the  population,  they 


!▼.]  TRANSFER  OF    LAXGgAGES.  169 

almost  totally  obliterated  the  Gaulish  speech,  putting  the 
Latin  in  its  place,  for  they  brought  with  them  culture  and 
polity,  art  and  science,  learning  and  letters :  they  made  it 
better  worth  while  for  the  Celts  to  learn  Latin  than  to 
adhere  to  their  own  ancient  idiom.  "When,  however,  the 
Germanic  Franks,  a  few  centuries  later,  conquered  in  their 
turn  the  now  Latinized  Gaul,  and  turned  it  into  a  kingdom 
of  France,  they  adopted  the  language  of  their  more  numer- 
ous and  more  cultivated  subjects,  only  adding  a  small  per- 
centage of  Germanic  words  to  its  vocabulary,  and  perhaps 
contributing  an  appreciable  influence  toward  hastening  the 
decay,  already  well  in  progress,  of  the  Latin  grammatical 
system.  The  same  thing  happened  once  more,  when  the 
Scandinavian  Northmen,  representing  another  branch  of  the 
Germanic  family,  after  extorting  from  the  beaten  and  trem- 
bling monarchs  of  France  the  cession  of  one  of  her  fairest 
provinces,  became  the  not  less  formidable  and  dreaded  Nor- 
mans. Although  placed  in  seemingly  favourable  circum- 
stances for  conserving  their  linguistic  independence,  crowded 
together  as  they  were  within  comparatively  narrow  bounds, 
and  making  on  their  own  ground,  of  which  they  were 
absolute  masters,  the  majority  of  the  population,  they  yet 
could  not  resist  the  powerful  assimilating  influences  which 
pressed  them,  a  horde  of  uncouth  and  unlearned  barbarians, 
on  every  side.  Within  a  wonderfully  short  time,  their 
Norse  tongue  had  altogether  gone  out  of  use,  leaving  traces 
only  in  a  few  geographical  names :  along  with  French  man- 
ners, French  learning,  and  French  polity,  they  had  implicitly 
adopted  also  French  speech.  Hardly  was  this  conversion 
accomplished,  when  they  set  forth  to  propagate  their  new 
linguistic  faith  in  a  country  occupied  by  dialects  akin  with 
that  which  they  had  recently  forsworn.  The  Angles  and 
Saxons,  Germanic  tribes,  had  meantime  finished  the  task, 
only  begun  by  the  Eomans,  of  extirpating  upon  the  largest 
and  best  part  of  British  ground  the  old  Celtic  speech.  They 
had  done  it  in  a  somewhat  diff'erent  way,  by  sheer  brute 
force,  by  destroying,  enslaving,  or  driving  out  the  native 
population,  and  filling  all  but  the  most  inaccessible  regions 
of  the  island  with  their  own  ferocious  tribesmen.     Henc© 


170  HISTORY    OF   THE  [lECT. 

the  wholly  insignificant  remains  of  Celtic  material  to  be 
found  among  the  ordinary  stores  of  expression  of  our  English 
tongue.  Christianity  and  civilization  found  the  invaders  in 
their  new  home,  and  an  Anglo-Saxon  literature  grew  up, 
which,  had  circumstances  continued  favourable,  might  have 
aided  national  unity  of  government,  institutions,  and  culture 
to  assimilate  the  varying  dialects  of  the  country,  producing 
a  national  language  not  inferior  in  wealth  and  polish  to  our 
present  speech.  But  they  who  take  the  sword  shall  perish 
by  the  sword :  upon  the  Anglo-Saxons  were  wreaked  the 
woes  they  had  themselves  earlier  brought  upon  the  Celts. 
Danish  and  Norse  invasions,  during  a  long  period,  bitterly 
vexed  and  weakened  the  Saxon  state,  and  it  finally  sank 
irrecoverably  under  the  Norman  conquest.  This  time,  the 
collision  of  two  diverse  languages,  upborne  by  a  nearly 
equal  civilization — the  partial  superiority  of  that  of  the 
Normans  being  more  than  counterbalanced  by  their  in- 
feriority in  numbers — under  the  government  of  political 
circumstance-3  already  explained,  produced  a  result  different 
from  any  which  we  have  thus  far  had  occasion  to  notice — 
namely,  a  truly  composite  language,  drawing  its  material  and 
its  strength  in  so  nearly  equal  part  from  the  two  sources 
that  scholars  are  able  to  dispute  whether  the  modern  Eui^^lish 
is  more  Saxon  or  more  French.  Into  the  details  of  the 
combination  we  cannot  now  stay  to  enter,  but  must  pass 
on  to  note  the  later  dialectic  history  of  the  hmgunge, 
merely  directing  attention  to  the  important  and  familiarly 
known  fact  that  its  formative  apparatus — whether  consisting 
in  inflections,  affixes  of  derivation,  or  connectives  and  rela- 
tional words — along  with  the  most  common  and  indispensable 
part  of  its  vocabulary,  remained  almost  purely  Saxon,  so 
that  it  is  to  be  accounted  still  a  Grcrmanic  dialect  in  struc- 
ture, although  furnished  with  stores  of  expression  in  no 
small  part  of  Eomanic  origin. 

The  fusion  of  Saxon  and  Norman  elements  in  English 
P])oech  did  not  reach  in  equal  measure  all  parts  of  the  land 
or  all  classes  of  the  people,  nor  did  it  by  any  means  wipe 
out  previously  existing  dialectic  differences,  thus  furnishing 
a  new  and  strictly  homogeneous  speech  as  a  starting-point 


IT.]  ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  171 

whence  a  ncTv  process  of  dialectic  divergerce  should  com- 
mence. On  the  contrary,  Britain  is  still,  like  Grei-many, 
only  in  a  less  degree,  a  country  full  of  dialects,  some  of 
whose  peculiarities  go  back  to  the  diversities  of  speech  ' 
among  the  tribes  by  whom  the  Anglo-Saxon  conquest  of  the 
island  was  achieved,  thirteen  hundred  years  ago,  while  the 
rest  are  of  every  date  of  origin,  from  that  remote  period  to 
the  present.  One  or  two  of  these  dialects — especially  the 
Scottish  and  the  Yorkshire — poetry  and  fiction  have  made 
somewhat  familiarly  known  to  us ;  others  are  matters  of 
keen  and  curious  interest  to  the  student  of  language,  their 
testimony  being  hardly  less  essential  than  that  of  the  literary 
dialect  to  his  comprehension  of  the  history  of  English 
speech. 

But  it  was  impossible  that,  in  the  transfer  of  English  to 
the  continent  of  America,  these  local  dialects  should  main- 
tain themselves  intact ;  that  could  only  have  been  tlie  result 
of  a  separate  migration  of  parts  of  the  local  communities  to 
which  they  belonged,  and  of  the  continued  maintenance  of 
their  distinct  identity  in  their  new  place  of  settlement. 
Such  was  not  the  character  of  the  movement  which  filled 
this  country  with  an  English-speaking  population.  Old 
lines  of  local  division  were  efi'aced  ;  new  ties  of  community 
were  formed,  embracing  men  of  various  province  and  rank. 
It  was  not  more  inevitable  that  the  languages  of  the  various 
nationalities  which  have  contributed  to  our  later  population 
should  disappear,  swallowed  up  in  the  predominant  English, 
than  that  the  varying  forms  of  English  should  disappear, 
being  assimilated  to  that  one  among  them  which  was  better 
supported  than  the  rest.  Nor  could  it  be  doubtful  which 
was  the  predominant  element,  to  which  the  others  would 
have  to  conform  themselves.  In  any  cultivated  and  lettered 
community,  the  cultivated  speech,  the  language  of  letters,  is 
the  central  point  toward  which  all  the  rest  gravitate,  as  they 
are  broken  up  and  lose  their  local  hold.  And  our  first 
settlers  were  in  no  small  part  from  the  instructed  class,  men 
of  high  character,  capacity,  and  culture.  They  brought  with 
them  a  written  language  and  a  rich  literature ;  they  read 
and  wrote ;    they  established  schools   of   every  grade,  and 


172  THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE  [lECT. 

took  care  that  each  rising  generation  should  not  fall  behind 
its  predecessor  in  learning.  The  basis,  too,  of  equality  of 
rights  and  privileges  on  which  they  founded  their  society 
added  a  powerful  influence  in  favour  of  equality  of  speech. 
As  a  natural  and  unavoidable  consequence,  then,  of  these 
deterininiug  conditions,  and  not  by  reason  of  any  virtue  for 
whicli  we  are  to  take  credit  to  ourselves,  the  general  lan- 
guage of  America,  through  all  sections  of  the  country  and 
all  orders  of  the  population,  became  far  more  nearly  homo- 
geneous, and  accordant  with  the  correct  standard  of  English 
speech,  than  is  the  average  language  of  England.  And  the 
same  influences  which  made  it  so  have  tended  to  keep  it  so : 
the  democratic  character  of  our  institutions,  and  the  almost 
universality  of  instruction  among  us,  have  done  much  to 
maintain  throughout  our  community  an  approximate  uni- 
formity of  idiom.  There  was  doubtless  never  a  country 
before,  where,  down  to  the  very  humblest  classes  of  the 
people,  so  many  learned  to  read  and  spell  out  of  the  same 
school-books,  heard  the  same  speakers,  from  platform,  desk, 
and  pulpit,  and  read  the  same  books  and  papers  ;  where 
there  was  such  a  surging  to  and  fro  of  the  population,  such 
a  mixture  and  intimate  intercourse  of  all  ranks  and  of  all 
regions.  In  short,  every  form  of  communication  is  more 
active  and  more  far-reaching  with  us  than  ever  elsewhere  ; 
every  assimilating  influence  has  had  unequalled  freedom  and 
range  of  action.  Hence,  there  was  also  never  a  case  in 
which  so  nearly  the  same  language  was  spoken  throughout 
the  whole  mass  of  so  vast  a  population  as  is  the  English  now 
in  America.  Modern  civilization,  with  the  great  states  it 
creates,  and  the  wide  and  active  intercourse  among  men  to 
which  it  prompts  and  for  which  it  aflbrds  the  needed  facili- 
ties, is  able  to  establish  upon  unoccupied  soil,  and  then  to 
maintain  there,  community  upon  a  scale  of  grandeur  to 
which  ancient  times  could  allbrd  no  parallel. 

Nor  have  we  failed  to  keep  nearly  even  pace  with  our 
British  relations  in  the  slow  progressive  development  of  the 
common  tongue :  our  close  connection  with  the  mother- 
country,  the  community  of  culture  which  we  have  kept  up 
wkh  her,  our  acknowledgment  of  her  superior  authority  in 


IT.]  IN   AilERICA.  173 

matters  of  learning  and  literature,  have  been  aWe  thus  far 
to  restrain  our  lespective  lines   of  linguistic  growth  from 
notable  divergence.     Though  we  are  sundered  by  an  ocean, 
there  have  been  invisible  ties  enoue^h  between  us  to  bind  u.9 
together    into    one    community.     Yet  our   concordance   of 
speech  is  not  perfect :   British  purism  finds  fault  with  even 
our  higher  styles  of  discourse,  oral  and  written,  as  disfigured 
by  Americanisms,  and  in  both  the  tone  and  the  material  of 
colloquial  talk  the  diff'erences  are,  of   course,   much   more 
marked.      We  have  preserved  some   older  words,  phrases, 
and  meanings  which  their  modern  use   discards  ;   we  have 
failed  as  yet  to  adopt  certain  others  which  have  sprung  up 
among  them  since  the  separation  ;  we  have  originated  yet 
others  which   they  have  not  accepted  and  ratified.     Upon 
all  these  points  we  are,  in  the  abstract,  precisely  as  much  in 
the  right  as  they ;  but  the  practical  question  is,  which  of 
the  two  is  the  higher  authority,  whose  approved  usage  shall 
be  the  norm  of  correct  English  speaking.     "We  have  been 
content  hitherto  to  accept  the  inferior  position,  but  it  is  not 
likely   that  we  shall  always  continue   so.      Our  increasing 
numbers  and  our  growing  independence   of  character   and 
culture  will  give  us  in  our  own  estimation  an  equal  right,  at 
the  least,  and  we  shall  feel  more  and  more  unwilling  to  yield 
implicitly  to  British  precedent ;  so  that  the  time  may  perhaps 
come  when  the  English  languas^e  in  America  and  the  English 
language  in  Britain  will  exhibit  a  noteworthy  difierence  of 
material,  form,  and  usage.      AVhat  we  have  to  rely  upon  to 
counteract  this  separating  tendency  and  annul  its  effect  is 
the  predominating  influence  of  the  class  of  highest  cultiva- 
tion, as  exerted  especially  through  the  medium  of  literature. 
Literature  is  the  most  dignified,  the  most  legitimate,  and 
the  most  powerful  of  the  forces  which  efi*ect  the  conservation 
of  language,  and  the  one  which  acts  most  purely  according 
to  its  true  merit,  free  from  the  adventitious  aids  and  draw- 
backs of  place  and  time.      It  is  through  her  literature  that 
America  has  begun,  and  must  go   on,  to  win  her  right  to 
share  in  the  elaboration  of  the  English  speech.     Love  and 
admiration   of  the   same   master-works   in  poetry,  oratory, 
philosophy,  and  science  has  hitherto  made  one  oommunity 


174  THE    ENGLISH    IN    AMERICA.  [lECT, 

of  the  two  great  divisions  of  speakers  of  English,  and  ought 
to  continue  to  unite  them — and  it  will,  we  hope,  do  so  :  but 
more  or  less  completely,  according  as  that  portion  of  the 
community  which  is  most  directly  reached  and  effectively 
guided  by  literature  is  allowed  authority  over  the  rest. 

AVe  are,  however,  by  no  means  free  from  dialects  among  our 
own  population,  although  we  may  hope  that  they  will  long, 
or  always,  continue  to  be  restricted  within  narrow  limits  of 
variation  from  the  standard  of  correct  speech,  as  they  are  at 
present.  The  New  Englander,  the  Westerner,  the  South- 
erner, even  of  the  educated  class,  betrays  his  birth  to  a 
skilled  observer  by  the  peculiarities  of  his  language  ;  and 
the  lower  we  descend  in  the  social  scale,  the  more  marked 
and  prominent  do  these  peculiarities  become.  There  is 
hardly  a  locality  in  the  land,  of  greater  or  less  extent,  which 
has  not  some  local  usages,  of  phrase  or  utterance,  character- 
izing those  whose  provincialism  has  not  been  rubbed  off  by 
instruction  or  by  intercourse  with  a  wider  public.  There  is 
a  certain  degree  of  difference,  too,  of  which  we  are  all 
conscious,  between  the  written  and  the  colloquial  style  : 
there  are  words  and  phrases  in  good  conversational  use, 
which  would  be  called  inelegant,  and  almost  low,  if  met 
with  in  books  ;  there  are  words  and  phrases  which  we  em- 
ploy in  composition,  but  which  would  seem  forced  and  stilted 
if  applied  in  the  ordinary  dealings  of  life.  This  is  far  from 
being  a  difference  sufficient  to  mark  the  literary  English  as 
another  dialect  than  tliat  of  the  people  ;  yet  it  is  the  begin- 
ning of  such  a  difference ;  it  needs  no  change  in  kind,  but 
only  a  change  in  degree,  to  make  it  accord  with  the  distinc- 
tion between  any  literary  language  which  history  offers  to 
our  knowledge  and  the  less  cultivated  dialects  which  have 
grown  up  in  popular  usage  by  its  side,  and  by  which  it  has 
been  finally  overthrown  and  supplanted. 

Nothing,  then,  as  we  see,  can  absolutely  repress  dialectic 
growth  ;  even  tlic  influences  most  powerfully  conservativo 
of  identity  of  langua'::;e,  working  in  the  most  effective 
manner  which  human  conditions  have  been  found  to  admit, 
can  only  succeed  in  indefinitely  reducing  its  rate  of  pro- 
gress. 


nr.]  LANGUAGES   AND    DIALECTS.  175 

It  will  be  noticed  that  we  hare  used  tlie  terms  "  dialect'* 
and  "  language  "  indifferently  and  interchangeably,  in  speak- 
ing of  any  given  tongue  ;  and  it  will  also  have  been  made 
plain,  T  trust,  by  the  foregoing  exposition  how  vain  would 
be  tijie  attempt  to  establish  a  definite  and  essential  distinC' 
tion  between  them,  or  give  precision  to  any  of  the  other 
names  which  indicate  the  different  degrees  of  diversity 
among  related  tongues.  No  form  of  speech,  living  or  dead, 
of  which  we  liave  :iny  knowledge,  was  not  or  is  not  a  dialect, 
in  the  sense  of  being  the  idiom  of  a  limited  community, 
among  other  communities  of  kindred  but  somewhat  discord- 
ant idiom  ;  none  is  not  truly  a  language,  in  the  sense  that 
it  is  the  means  of  mutual  intercourse  of  a  distinct  portion 
of  mankind,  adapted  to  their  capacity  and  supplying  their 
needs.  The  whole  history  of  spoken  language,  in  all  climes 
and  all  ages,  is  a  series  of  varying  and  successive  phases  ; 
external  circumstances,  often  accidental,  give  to  some  of  these 
phases  a  prominence  and  importance,  a  currency  and  per- 
manence, to  which  others  do  not  attain ;  and  according  to 
their  degree  of  importance  we  style  them  idiom,  or  patois, 
or  dialect,  or  language.  To  a  very  limited  extent,  natural 
history  feels  the  same  difficulty  in  establishing  the  distinc- 
tion between  a  "  variety  "  and  a  "  species  :  "  and  the  difficulty 
would  be  not  less  pervading  and  insurmountable  in  natural 
than  in  linguistic  science,  if,  as  is  the  case  in  language,  not 
only  the  species,  but  even  the  genera  and  higher  groups  of 
animals  and  plants  were  traceably  descended  from  one 
another  or  from  common  ancestors,  and  passed  into  each 
other  by  insensible  gradations.  Transmutation  of  species  in 
the  kingdom  of  speech  is  no  hypothesis,  but  a  patent  fact, 
one  of  the  fundamental  and  determining  principles  of  lin- 
guistic Btudj. 


LECTUEE  Y. 


Erroneous  views  of  the  relations  of  dialects.  Dialectic  variety  inapliei 
original  unity.  Effect  of  cultivation  on  a  language.  Grouping  of  lan- 
guages by  relationship.  Nearer  and  remoter  relations  of  the  English. 
Constitution  of  the  Indo-European  family.  Px'oof  of  its  unity.  Im- 
possibility of  determining  the  place  and  time  of  its  founders;  their 
culture  and  customs,  inferred  from  their  restored  vocabulary. 


Having  previously  considered  in  some  detail  tlie  various 
modes  of  change  in  language — the  processes  of  linguistic 
life,  as,  by  an  allowable  figure,  we  termed  them — we  went 
on  at  our  last  interview  to  direct  our  attention  to  the  circuni- 
Btances  and  conditions  which  govern  the  working  of  thoso 
processes,  giving  prominence  to  the  one  or  the  other  of  them, 
and  quickening  or  retarding  their  joint  effects.  AVe  then 
proceeded  to  inquire  into  the  manner  in  which  the  same 
processes  operate  to  divide  any  given  form  of  speech,  with 
the  lapse  of  time,  into  varying  forms,  or  to  convert  a  lan- 
guage into  dialects.  We  passed  in  review  the  causes  which 
favour  the  development  of  dialectic  diiferences,  as  well  as 
those  which  limit  and  oppose  such  development,  and  even 
tend  to  bring  uniformity  out  of  diversity.  They  are,  we 
found,  of  two  general  kinds  :  the  one,  proceeding  from  indi- 
viduals, and  founded  on  the  diversities  of  individual  char- 
a.-ter  and  circumstance,  tend  to  indefinite  separation  and 
('isfordance  ;  the  other,  acting  in  communities,  and  arising 
from  the  necessity  of  mutual  intelligence,  the  grand  aim  and 
purpose  of  language,  make  for  uniformity  and  assimilation, 


v.]  DIALECTS    NOT    PRIMITIVE.  177 

sacrificing  a  merely  personal  to  a  more  compreliensive  unity, 
merging  the  individual  in  the  society  of  which  he  is  a 
member.  Language  is  an  institution  founded  in  man's  social 
nature,  wrought  out  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  social  wants ; 
and  hence,  while  individuals  are  the  sole  ultimate  agents  in 
tlie  formation  and  modification  of  every  word  and  meaning 
of  a  word,  it  is  still  the  community  that  makes  and  changes 
its  langua.f^e.  The  one  is  the  molecular  force  ;  the  other,  the 
organic.  Both,  as  we  saw,  are  always  at  work,  and  the  history 
of  human  tongues  is  a  record  of  their  combined  effects  ;  but 
the  individual  diversifyinjj;  forces  lie  deeper  down,  are  more 
internal,  more  inlierent  in  the  universal  use  of  speech,  and 
removed  from  the  control  of  outward  circumstances.  Lan- 
guage, we  may  fairly  say,  tends  toward  diversity,  but  circum- 
stances connected  with  its  employment  check,  annul,  and 
even  reverse  this  tendency,  preserving  unity,  or  producing 
iii  where  it  did  not  before  exist. 

One  or  two  recent  writers  upon  language  *  have  com- 
mitted the  very  serious  error  of  inverting  the  mutual  rela- 
tions of  dialectic  variety  and  uniformity  of  speech,  thus  turn-  . 
ing  topsy-turvy  the  whole  history  of  linguistic  development. 
Unduly  impressed  by  the  career  of  modern  cultivated  dialects, 
their  effacement  of  existing  dialectic  differences  and  pro- 
duction of  homogeneous  speech  throughout  wide  regions, 
and  failing  to  recognize  the  nature  of  the  forces  which  have 
made  such  a  career  possible,  these  authors  affirm  tliat  the 
natural  tendency  of  language  is  from  diversit}'-  to  uniformity  ; 
that  dialects  are,  in  the  regular  order  of  things,  antecedent 
to  language ;  that  human  speech  began  its  existence  in  a 
state  of  iutinite  dialectic  division,  which  has  been,  from  the 
first,  undergoing  coalescence  and  reduction.  It  may  seem" 
hardly  worth  while  to  spend  any  efibrt  in  refuting  an  opinion 

*  I  refer  in  particvilar  to  j\r.  Ernest  Renan,  of  Paris,  whose  peculiar  views 
upon  this  siihjoct  arn  laid  down  in  his  General  History  of  the  Semitic  Lan- 
gua,2:es,  and  more  fully  in  his  treatise  on  the  Origin  of  Language  (2nd  edition, 
Paris,  1858,  ch.  viii.)— a  work  of  great  ingenuity  and  eloquence,  but  one 
of  which  tlie  linguistic  pliilosophy  is  in  a  far  higher  degree  construct- 
ive than  inductive.  Professor  Max  jMilller,  also,  when  treating  of  the 
Teutonic  class  of  languages  (Lectures  on  Language,  first  series,  fifth  lec- 
ture), appears  distinctiiy  to  give  in  his  adhesion  to  the  same  view. 

12 


178  ILLUSTRATIONS   OF  [LECT. 

of  wliicli  the  falsity  will  have  beeu  made  apparent  by  the 
exposition  already  given  ;  yet  a  brief  additional  discussion  of 
the  point  will  afford  us  the  opportunity  of  setting  in  a 
clearer  light  one  or  tvvo  principles  whose  distinct  apprehen- 
sion is  necessary  in  order  to  the  successful  prosecution  of 
our  farther  inquiries. 

It  will  be  readily  admitted  that  the   difference  between 
any  given  dialect  and  another  of  kindred   stock  is  made  up 
of  a  multitude  of  separate  items  of  diflcrence,  and  consists  in 
their  sum  and  combined  eflect :  thus,  for  instance,  words  are 
possessed  by  the  one  which  are  wanting  in  the  other ;  words 
found  in  both  are  difierently  pronounced  by  each,  or  are  used 
in  senses  either  not  quite  identical  or  very  unlike  ;  combina- 
tions and  forms  belong  only  to  one,  or  are  corrupted  and 
worn  down  in  diverse  degrees  by  the  two  ;  phrases  occur  in 
tbe  one  which  would  be  meaningless  in  the  other.     Kow  the 
gradual  production  of  such  differences  as  these  is  something 
wbich  we  see  to  have  been  going  on  in  language   during  the 
whole  period  of  its  history  illustrated  by  literary  records  ; 
nay,  which  is  even  going  on  at  the  present  day  under  our 
own  eyes.     If  the  Italian  uses  in  the  sense  of  '  truth '  the 
word    verita,  the    Spanish    verdad,   the    French    verite,    the 
English  verity,  we  know  very  well  that  it  is  not  because  all 
these  forms  were  once  alike  current  in  the  mouths  of  the 
same  people,  till  those  who  preferred  each  one  of  them  sorted 
themselves  out  and  combined  together  into  a  separate  com- 
munity ;  it  must  be  because  some  single  people  formerly  used 
in  the  same  sense  a  smgle  word,  either  coincident  with  one 
of  these  or  nearly  resembling  them  all,  from  which  they  \m\\q 
all  descended,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  linguistic  tradition, 
that  always  implies  liability  to  linguistic  change.   We  happen 
to  know,  indeed,  in  this  partic-ular  case,  by  direct  historical 
evidence,  what  the  original   word  was,  and  who   were  ihd 
people  that  used  it:   it  was  viritdt  (nominative  Veritas),  and 
belonged  to  the  language  of  Rome,  the   Latin :  its  present 
varieties    of   form    merely    illustrate    the     usual    eflects    of 
phonetic  corruption.  So,  too,  if  I  say  attend  !  and  the  French- 
man rr/Zr^/r/r^r .'  our   words   difler  in   ])i-onunciation,  in  gram- 
matical form  (the  latter  having  a  plural  ending  which  the 


T.]  DIALECTIC    DIVERGENCE.  179 

former  lacks),  and  in  sense  (the  Freneli  meaning  '  wait ! ')  j 
and,  in  all  these  respects  save  the  last,  both  differ  from  the 
Latin  attendite ;  yet  of  this  both  are  alike  the  hereditary 
representatives  :  no  Roman  ever  said  either  attend  or  a!" 
tendez.  But  this  same  reasoning  "vve  apply  also  in  other  cases, 
where  direct  historical  evidence  is  wanting:,  arrivins:  without 
hesitation  or  uncertainty  at  like  conclusions.  If  we  say  true, 
while  the  Grerman  says  treu,  the  Dane  tro,  the  Netherlander 
trouiv,  and  so  on,  we  do  not  once  think  of  doubting  that  it  ia 
because  we  have  all  gotten  nearly  the  same  word,  in  nearly 
the  same  sense,  by  uninterrupted  tradition  from  some  primi- 
tive community  in  which  a  like  word  had  a  like  sense  ;  and 
we  set  ourselves  to  discover  what  this  word  was,  and  what 
and  why  have  been  the  changes  which  have  brought  it  into 
its  present  varying  forms.  The  discordance  between  our 
fiither,  the  Anglo-Saxon  y^c?<?r,  the  Icelandic  /adij',  the  Dutch 
vader,  and  the  German  vater,  does  not,  any  more  than  that 
between  verity  and  its  analogues,  compel  us  to  assume  a 
time  when  these  words  existed  as  primitive  dialectic  varieties 
in  the  same  community  :  we  regard  them  as  the  later  effects 
of  the  separation  of  one  community  into  several.  And  when 
we  compare  them  all  with  the  Latin  pater,  the  Grreek  pater, 
the  Persian  peder,  the  Sanskrit  pitar — all  which  are  but 
palpable  forms  of  the  same  original  from  which  the  rest  have 
come — our  inference  is  still  the  same.  Or,  to  recur  once 
more  to  an  example  which  we  have  already  had  occasion  to 
adduce,  our  word  is  is  the  English  correspondent  of  the 
German  ist,  the  Latin  est,  the  Greek  esti,  the  Lithuanian 
esti,  the  Slavonian  yest^,  the  Persian  est,  the  Sanskrit  asti. 
To  the  apprehension  of  the  historical  student  of  language, 
all  these  are  nothing  more  than  slightly  varying  forms  of  the 
same  vocable  :  their  difference  is  one  of  the  innumerable 
differences  of  detail  which  distinguish  from  one  another  the 
Lmguages  we  have  named.  "We  cannot,  to  be  sure,  go  back 
under  the  sure  guidance  of  contemporary  records  to  the 
people  among  whom,  and  the  time  at  which,  the  word  origin- 
ated :  but  we  are  just  as  far  in  this  case  as  in  those  referred 
to  above  from  being  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  all  its  pre- 
sent representatives  are  equally  nrimitive-  that  thev  consti- 


180  DIALECTIC    DIFFERENCES.  [lECT. 

tute  together  the  state  of  indefinite  dialectic  variety  in  ^vhiL•ll 
the  expression  of  the  third  person  singular  of  the  verb  to  he 
began,  and  that  the  nations,  modern  or  ancient,  in  whose 
languages  we  find  them  are  the  lineal  descendants  of  those 
groups  in  a  former  community  who  finally  made  up  their 
minds  to  prefer  the  one  or  the  other  of  them.  On  the 
contrary,  we  derive,  with  all  the  confidence  belonging  to  a 
strictly  logical  process  of  reasoning,  the  conclusion  that  the 
word-^  we  are  considering  are  later  variations  of  a  single 
original,  namely  asti^  and  that  they  would  have  no  existence 
if  a  certain  inferrible  communit}',  at  an  unknown  period  in 
the  past,  had  not  put  together  the  verbal  root  as,  signifying 
'  existence,'  and  the  pronoun  ti,  meaning  '  that,'  to  form  that 
original. 

^^  The  same  reasoning  is  applicable  to  every  other  individual 
instance  of  dialectic  difference.  And  it  is  so  applied,  in  each 
individual  instance,  even  by  those  who  maintain  the  priority 
of  dialects  :  such  comparison  and  inference  as  we  have  been 
illustrating  constitute  the  method  of  linguistic  research  of  the 
comparative  philologists,  among  whom  they  too  desire  to 
count  themselves.  Only  they  fail  to  note  that  the  whole  sum 
of  dialectic  difierence  is  made  up  of  instances  like  these,  and 
I  that,  if  the  latter  point  back,  in  detail,  to  an  original  unity, 
I  the  former  must,  in  its  entirety,  do  the  same.  "  As  there 
were  families,  clans,  confederacies,  and  tribes,"  we  are  told,* 
*'  before  there  was  a  nation,  so  there  were  dialects  before- 
there  was  a  language."  The  fallacy  involved  in  this  com- 
parison, as  in  all  the  reasoning  by  which  is  supported  the 
view  we  are  combating,  is  that  it  does  not  go  back  far 
enough ;  it  begins  in  the  middle  of  historic  development, 
instead  of  at  its  commencement.  If  families,  clans,  and 
tribes  were  ultimate  elements  in  the  history  of  humanity,  if 
they  sprang  up  independently,  each  out  of  the  soil  on  which 
it  stands,  then  the  indefinite  diversity  of  human  language  in 
its  early  stages — a  diversity,  however,  fundamental,  and  not 
dialectic — might  follow,  not  only  as  an  analogical,  but  as  a 
direct  historical  consequence.  But,  if  a  population  of 
scattered  communities  implies  dispersion  from  a  sij^gl-e  p^iut, 

*  Max  M  iiller,  I.e. 


f.]  DECREASE    OF    DIALECTIC    DIVERSITY.  ISl 

if  we  must  follow  back  tlie  fates  of  our  race  until  they  centre 
in  a  limited  number  of  families  or  in  a  single  pair,  which 
expanded  by  natural  increase,  and  scattered,  forming  the 
little  communities  which  later  fused  together  into  greater 
ones — and  who  will  deny  that  it  was  so  ? — then,  also,  both 
by  analogy  and  by  historical  necessity,  it  follows  that  that  is 
the  true  view  of  the  relation  of  dialects  and  language  to 
which  we  have  been  led  above  :  namely,  that  growth  and 
divarication  of  dialects  accompany  the  spread  and  disco^^nec- 
tion  of  communities,  and  that  assimilation  of  dialects  accom- 
panies the  coalescence  of  communities. 

Prevalence  of  the  same  tonsfue  over  wide  regions  of  the 
earth's  surfiice  was,  indeed,  impossible  in  the  olden  tiuie,  and 
human  speech  is  now,  upon  the  whole,  tending  toward  a  con- 
dition of  less  diversity'  with  ej-ery  century  ;  but  this  is  only 
owing  to  the  vastly  increased  efficiency  at  present  of  those 
external  influences  which  counteract  the  inherent  tendency 
of  language  to  diversity.  As,  here  in  America,  a  single  cul- 
tivated nation,  of  homogeneous  Speech,  is  taking  the  place  of 
a  congeries  of  wild  tribes,  with  their  'host  of  discordant 
tongues,  so,  on  a  smaller  scale,  is  it  everywhere  else  :  civiliz- 
ation and  the  conditions  it  makes  are  gaining  upon  barbarism 
and  its  isolating  influences.  ,  In  the  fact  that  Frenchmen, 
Spaniards,  and  Italians,  on  entering  our  community,  all  learn 
alike  to  say  with  us  veriti/,  there  is  nothing  which  at  all  goes 
to  prove  that  verify,  verite,  verdad,  and  verita  are  primitive 
dialectic  varieties,  tending  toward  unity;  nor,  in  the  extended 
sway  of  the  cultivated  tongues  of  more  modern  periods,  is 
there  aught  which  in  the  most  distant  manner  favours  the 
theory  that  dialects  are  antecedent  to  uniform  speech,  and 
that  the  latter  everywhere  grows  out  of  the  former. 

It  is  true,  again,  that  a  certain  degree  of  dialectic  variety 
is  inseparable  from  the  being  of  any  language,  at  any  stage 
of  its  history,  .  \Ye  have  seen  that  even  among  ourselves, 
where  uniformity  of  speech  prevails  certainly  not  less  than 
elsewhere  in  the  world,  no  two  individuals  speak  absolutely 
the  same  tongue,  or  would  propagate  absolutely  the  same,  if 
circumstances  should  make  them  the  founders  of  independent 
linguistic  traditions.     However  small,  then,  may  have  beet; 


182  ACCUMULATION    OF    DIALECTIC    DIFFERENCES.       [LECT. 

the  coinimmity  which  laid  the  basis  of  any  actually  existing 
language  or  family  of  languages,  we  must  admit  the  existence 
of  some  differences  between  the  idioms  of  its  individual 
members,  or  families.  And  if  we  suppose  such  a  community 
to  be  dispersed  into  the  smallest  possible  fragments,  and 
each  fragment  to  become  the  progenitor  of  a  separate  com- 
munity, it  might  be  said  with  a  kind  of  truth  that  the  lan- 
guages of  these  later  communities  began  their  history  with 
dialectic  ditfereuces  already  developed.  The  more  widely 
extended,  too,  the  original  community  before  its  dispersion, 
and  the  more  marked  the  local  differences,  not  inconsistent 
with  mutual  intelligibility,  existing  in  its  speech,  the  more 
capital,  so  to  speak,  would  each  portion  have,  on  which  to 
commence  its  farther  accumulation  of  dialectic  variations. 
But  theee  original  dialectic  differences  would  themselves  he 
the  result  of  previous  growth,  and  they  would  be  of  quite 
insignificant  amount,  as  having  been  able  to  consist  at  the 
outset  with  unity  of  speech;  they  might  be  undistinguish^ble 
even  by  the  closest  analysis  among  the  peculiarities  of  idiom 
which  should  have  arisen  later ;  and  it  would  be  the  grossest 
error  to  maintain  either  that  these  last  were  original  and 
primitive,  or  that  they  grew  out  of  and  were  caused  by  the 
first  slight  varieties:  we  should  rather  say,  with  entire  truth, 
that  the  later  dialects  had  grown  by  gradual  divergence  out 
of  a  single  homogeneous  language. 

la  an  uncultured  community,  the  value  of  such  minor 
discordances  of  usage  as  may  exist,  and  do  always  exist, 
among  those  who  yet,  as  being  able  to  communicate  freely 
witli  one  another,  are  to  be  regarded  as  speaking  the  same, 
tongue,  is  at  its  maximum.  The  first  effect  of  the  cultiva- 
tion of  a  language,  as  we  style  it,  is  to  wipe  out  this  class  oi 
(liflVrences,  extending  the  area  and  perfecting  the  degree  of 
linguistic  uniformity.  And  its  work  is  accomplished,  first 
as  last,  Mhether  the  scale  of  variation  over  which  its  influ- 
ence bears  sway  be  less  or  greater,  by  selection,  not  by 
fusion.  The  varying  usages  of  different  individuals  and 
l».)calitie8  are  not  averaged,  but  the  usages  of  one  part  of  the 
community  are  set  up  as  a  norm,  to  which  those  of  the  rest 


v.]  CULTIVATION    OF    LANGUAGE.  183 

cheeked  or  altogether  prevented.  An  element  of  conscious- 
ness,  of  reflectiveness,  is  introduced  into  the  use  of  language  j 
acknowledged  imitation  of  certain  models;  deference  to 
authority  in  matters  of  speaking,  take  the  place  of  the 
former  more  spontaneous  and  careless  employment  of  the 
common  means  of  communication,  governed  only  by  the 
necessities  of  communication,  which  are  always  felt  but  not 
always  reasoned  upon.  The  best  speakers,  those  who  use 
words  with  most  precision,  with  most  fulness  and  force 
of  meaning,  with  most  grace  and  art,  become  the  teachers  of 
the  rest.  And  how^ever  this  influence  be  exerted,  whether 
by  simple  recognition  of  authority  in  tbose  who  deserve  it, 
or  with  the  aid  of  a  popular  literature,  handed  dow^n  by 
tradition,  or  whether  it  rise  to  grammatical  and  lexical  culture, 
to  the  possession  of  letters  and  learning,  it  is  of  the  same 
nature  ;  it  produces  its  conserving  and  ennobling  eflfects  in 
the  same  way.  It  is  the  counsellor  and  guide,  not  the 
master,  of  national  usage.  It  undei-takes  no  wholesale  re- 
formation. It  does  not  shear  ofl*  from  a  language  masses  of 
unnecessary  means  of  expression  which  untaught  speakers 
would  fain  force  upon  it ;  it  finds  no  such  materials  to  deal 
with.  Some  write  and  speak  as  if  the  uncultivated  employer 
of  speech  were  impelled  to  launch  out  indefinitely  into  new 
words  and  forms,  rioting  in  the  profusion  of  his  linguistic 
creations,  until  grammar  comes  to  set  bounds  to  his  prodi- 
gality, and  to  reduce  the  common  tongue  within  reasonable 
dimensions.  But  it  is  by  no  means  so  easy  and  seductive  a 
thing  to  increase  the  resources  of  a  language.  We  do  not 
look  to  our  dictionaries  and  grammars  to  know  if  we  may 
use  elements  which  come  crowding  to  our  lips  and  demanding 
utterance.  Linguistic  growth  is  a  slow  process,  extorted,  as 
it  were,  by  necessity,  by  the  exigencies  of  use,  from  the 
speakers  of  language.  The  obligation  resting  upon  each  one 
of  making  himself  intelligible  to  his  fellows,  and  understand- 
ing them  in  turn,  is  the  check,  and  a  sufficient  one,  upon  in- 
dividual license  of  production.  Economy  is  a  main  element 
in  linguistic  development ;  that  which  is  superfluous  in 
a  dialect,  not  needed  for  practical  use,  falls  off*  and  dies  of 
itself,  without  waiting  to  be   lopped   away  by  the  pruning 


ISi  DIALECTIC    CORRESPONDENCES   ALWAYS  [lECT. 

knife  of  a  grammarian.  Culture  clioosea,  from  among  the 
varieties  of  equivalent  form,  utterance,  and  phrase  which  a 
defective  comiiiunication  has  allowed  to  spring  up  within 
the  limits  of  the  same  community,  those  which  shall  be  ac- 
cepted as  most  worthy  of  preservation.  It  maintains  what 
is  good,  warns  against  abuses,  and  corrects  offences  com- 
mitted by  a  part  against  the  authority  of  prevailing  usage.  A 
cultivatLd  huiguage  is  thus  simply  one  whose  natural  growth 
has  gone  oa  fur  a  certain  period  u.ider  the  conscious  and 
interested  care  of  its  best  speakers  ;  which  has  been  placed 
in  their  charge,  for  the  maintenance  of  a  standard,  for  the 
'repression  of  di.>figuring  alterations,  for  enrichment  with  ex- 
pressions for  higher  thou^jit  and  deeper  knowledge  ;  for  the 
enforcement,  in  short,  of  their  own  studied  usages  of  speech 
.upon  the  less  instructed  and  more  heedless  masses  of  a  com- 
'munily. 

It  is  obviously  futile  to  attempt  to  draw  anywhere  a 
dividing  line  in  the  development  of  language — to  say,  these 
dift'erences  on  the  one  side  are  the  result  of  later  linguistic 
growth ;  those,  on  the  other  side,  are  original,  a  part  of  the 
primitive  variety  and  indefiniteness  of  human  speech.  The 
nature  and  uses  of  speech,  and  the  forces  wliich  act  upon  it 
and  produce  its  changes,  cannot  but  have  been  essentially 
the  same  during  all  the  periods  of  its  history,  amid  all  its 
changing  circumstances,  in  all  its  varying  phases  ;  and  there 
is  no  way  in  which  its  miknown  past  can  be  investigated, 
except  by  the  careful  study  of  its  living  present  and  its 
recorded  past,  and  the  extension  and  application  to  remote 
conditions  of  laws  and  principles  deduced  by  that  study. 
Like  effects,  as  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  claim,  imply 
like  causes,  not  less  in  the  domain  of  language  than  in  that  of 
physical  science ;  and  he  who  pronounces  the  origin  and 
character  of  ancient  dialects  and  forms  of  speech  to  be  funda- 
mentally diflercnt  from  those  of  modern  dialects  and  forms 
of  speech  can  only  be  compared  with  the  geologist  who 
should  acknowledge  the  formation  by  aqueous  action  of  recent 
gravel  and  pebble-beds,  but  should  deny  that  water  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  production  of  a  acieut  sandstones  and 
conglomerates. 


Vl  IMPLY    ORIGINAL    UNITY.  185 

The  continuity  and  similarity  of  the  course  of  linguistic   \ 
history  in  all  its   stages,  and  the   competency  of  linguistic 
correspondences,  wherever  we  find  them,  to  prove  unity  oi 
origin  and  community  of  tradition,  are  truths  which  we  need 
to  bear  in  mind  as  we  proceed  with  our  inquiries  into  lan- 
guage.    If  we  meet  in  different  tongues  with  words  which 
are  clearly  the  same  word,  notwithstanding  differences  of  form 
and  meaning  which  they  may  exhibit,  we  cannot  help  con- 
cluding that  they  are   common  representatives  of  a  single 
original,  once  formed  and  adopted  by  a   single   community, 
and  that  from  this  they  have  come  down  by  the  ordinary  and 
still  subsisting  processes  of  linguistic  tradition,  which  always 
and  everywhere  involve  liability  to  alteration  in  outer  shape 
and  inner  content.     It  is  true  that  there  are  found  in  lan- 
guage accidental  resemblances  between  words  of  wholly  dif- 
ferent  origin :   of  such  we  shall  have  to  take  more  particular 
notice  in  a  later  lecture  (the  tenth)  :    but  exceptions  like 
tliese  do  not  make  void  the  rule  ;    the  possibility   of  their 
occurrence  only  imposes  upon  the  etymologist  the  necessity  of 
greater  care  and  circumspection  in  his  comparisons,  of  studying 
more  thoroughly  the  history  of  the  words  with  which  he  has 
to  deal.      It  is  also  true  that  real  historical  correspondences 
may  exist  between  isolated  words  in  two  languages  without 
implying  the  original  identity  of  those  languages,  or  anything 
more    than    a    borrowing  by  the  one   out   of  the    stores   of 
expression   belonging  to   the   other.      Our  own  tongue,  for 
instance,  aside   from   its   wholesale   composition   out   of  the 
tongues  of  two   different  races,  draws  more   or  less   of  its 
material  from  nearly  every  one  of  the  languages  of  Europe, 
and  from  not  a  few  of  those   of  Asia,  Africa,  and  America. 
Yet  it  is  evident  that  such  borrowing  has  its  limits,  both  of 
degree  and  of  kind,  and  that  it  may  be  within  the  power  of 
tlie  liu'^uistic  student  readily  to  distinguish  its  results  from 
the  effects  of  a  genuine  community  of  linguistic  tradition. 

The  method  by  which  we  are  to  proceed  in  grouping  and 
classifying  the  languages  spoken  by  mankind,  now  and  in 
former  times,  results  with  necessary  consequence  from  the 
principles  Avhich  we  have  laid  down.  "We  have  seen  that  no 
given  form  of  speech  remains  permanently  the   same :    each 


186  GROUPING    OF    LANGUAGES  [lECI. 

chatiijjes  continually,  in  its  structure  and  content,  and  tonds 
to  divide,  with  the  progress  of  time,  into  varying  forms  op 
dialects.  ISo  existing  language,  no  recorded  language,  is 
original ;  each  is  the  descendant  of  some  earlier  on{^,  from 
which,  perhaps,  other  existing  or  recorded  languages  are 
equally  descended.  AYith  this  easy  clew  to  guide  us,  the 
labyrinth  of  human  speech  is  a  labyrinth  no  longer ;  it  is 
penetrated  by  paths  which  we  may  securely  follow.  AV'e 
have  simply  to  group  together  according  to  their  affinities  the 
languages  known  to  us ;  connecting,  first  of  all,  those  whose 
totality  of  structure,  along  with  what  history  actually  teaches 
us  of  their  derivation,  shows  them  so  plainly  to  be  forms  of 
the  same  original  that  even  the  most  exaggerated  scepticism 
could  not  venture  to  deny  their  relationship ;  then  going  ou 
to  extend  our  classification  from  the  more  clearly  to  the  more 
obscurely,  from  the  more  closely  to  the  more  remotely  con- 
nected, until  we  have  done  the  utmost  which  the  nature  of 
the  case  permits,  imtil  analysis  and  deduction  will  carry  us 
no  farther.  The  way  is  plain  enough  at  first,  and  even  the 
most  careless  may  tread  it  without  fear  of  wandering ;  but  to 
follow  it  to  the  end  demands,  along  with  much  labour  and 
pains,  no  little  wariness  and  clearness  of  vision. 

Let  us,  then,  turn  aside  for  a  time  from  pursuing  the 
direct  course  of  our  fundamental  inquiry,  "  why  we  speak  so 
and  so,"  to  ask  who  "  we  "  are  to  whom  the  inquii'y  relates ; 
who,  along  with  us  that  acknowledge  tiie  various  forms  of 
the  English  as  our  native  speech,  use  languages  which  are, 
after  all,  only  dialectic  forms  of  one  great  original  mother- 
tongue. 

The  results  of  such  an  investigation  into  the  relationship 
of  the  English  language  have  been,  to  a  certain  extent,  taken 
for  granted  during  our  whole  discussion.  This  was  unavoid- 
able :  we  could  not  otherwise  have  talked  at  all  of  genetic 
connection,  or  illustrated  the  processes  of  linguistic  growth. 
Now,  however,  we  have  to  take  up  the  subject  more  system- 
atically, showing  the  extent  to  which  the  tie  of  relationship 
reaches,  and  presenting  some  of  the  evidence  which  proves  its 
reality. 

To  assert  that  the  slightly  diUbriug  forms  of  speech  which 


v.]  BY    GENKTIC    RELATIOl^SHIP.  187 

prevail  in  tlie  various  parts  of  our  own  country,  and  even  tlia 
more  noteworthy  dialects  found  among  the  classes  of  the 
population  of  Britain,  form  together  only  one  language,  is  tc 
assert  a  truism :  no  man  in  his  sober  senses  would  presume 
to  doubt  it.  Let  any  one,  however  ignorant  of  history  he 
may  be,  go  about  the  globe,  finding  on  each  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  and  scattered  from  island  to  island,  communities 
who  speak  English,  though  tinged  with  local  colouring,  and 
it  wdll  not  enter  into  his  mind  to  doubt  that  they  were 
scattered  thither  from  some  common  centre,  that  they  all 
have  their  accordant  speech  by  community  of  linguistic 
tradition.  A  like  conclusion  is  reached  almost  as  directly, 
if  we  follow  back  to  the  continent  of  Europe  the  traces  of 
those  adventurous  tribes  which,  as  history  distinctly  informs 
us,  colonized  at  no  very  remote  date  the  British  isles,  and 
note  what  languages  are  still  spoken  upon  the  shores  whence 
they  set  forth  on  their  career  of  conquest.  The  larger  and 
more  indispensable  part  of  English,  as  has  been  already 
pointed  out,  finds  its  kindred  in  Germany,  whence  came  the 
Saxon  and  Anglian  portion  of  our  ancestry.  The  community 
of  ti'adition  between  the  English  and  the  Grerman,  Nether- 
landish, Swedish,  Danish,  and  so  on,  is  so  pervading,  and  its 
evidences  are  so  patent  to  view,  that  no  one,  probably,  who 
has  ever  added  a  knowledge  of  either  of  the  languages  named 
to  that  of  his  English  mother-tongue  has  failed  to  bo  struck 
by  it,  and  to  be  convinced  that,  in  their  main  structure  and 
material,  the  two  were  one  speech.  But  his  experience  has 
also  tauglit  him  that  the  difference  between  them  is  far  from 
being  inconsiderable,  and  that,  unfortunately  for  him,  he  is  by 
no  means  able  to  speak  and  write  Grerman  or  Swedish, 
because  English,  like  them,  is  Grermanic.  If  an  American, 
he  will  talk  readily  with  an  educated  Englishman ;  he  will 
even  make  shift  to  understand  a  Yorkshireman,  a  broad 
Scotchman,  or  an  Irishman  fresh  from  his  native  bogs  ;  but 
put  him  and  a  Grerman  together,  and  the  two  are  well-nigh 
as  deaf  and  dumb  to  each  other  as  if  the  one  of  them  were  a 
Greek  or  a  Hindu.  Plainly-  enougli,  the  explanation  of 
their  difficulty  is  simply  this :  these  two  Germanic  dialects, 
originally  one  language  and  belonging  to  a  single  community, 


188  GERMANIC    GROUP.  [lECT. 

have  been  now  so  long  separated,  and  tlieir  independent 
changes  in  tlie  interval  have  been  so  great,  that  free  and 
intelligent  communication  is  no  longer  possible  between 
those  who  have  learned  to  speak  them  :  one  must  have  some- 
what of  instruction  in  both  in  order  to  be  able  to  discover 
the  fact  of  their  rclations^iip. 

Not  all  the  Grermanic  languages,  however,  are  allied  with 
the  English  in  equal  degree.  The  Low-German  dialects,  as 
they  are  called,  those  which  occupy  the  northern  shores  and 
lowlands  of  the  country,  stand  notably  nearer  to  our  tongue 
than  do  tlie  dialects  of  central  and  southern  G-ermany,  the 
literary  Iligh-Grcrman  and  its  next  of  kin.  This  relation  is 
readily  and  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  the  circumstances 
of  the  Germanic  emigration  to  Britain:  our  ancestors  came 
from  the  shore  provinces,  and  brought  with  them  the  fonns 
of  speech  there  prevailing.  And  there  is  yet  another 
principal  group  of  Germanic  languages,  coordinate  with  the 
two  already  mentioned  :  it  occupies  the  outliers  of  Germany 
to  the  north,  namely  Denmark,  Sweden  and  Norway,  and 
their  remote  colony  of  Iceland.  It  is  usually  called  the 
Scandinavian  group.  "VVe  have  in  our  own  present  speech 
not  a  few  traces  of  its  peculiar  words  and  usages,  imported 
into  England  by  those  fierce  Xortlunen — or  Danes,  as 
English  history  is  accustomed  to  style  them — whose  incur- 
sions during  many  centuries  so  harassed  the  Saxon  mon- 
archy. 

These   three  groups  or  classes  of  existing   dialects,   the>( 
^ow-German,  the  High-German,  and  the  Scandinavian,  with\ 
their  numerous  subdivisions,  constitute,  then,  a  well-marked  i 
family  of  related  languages  ;  although  those  who  speak  them.\ 
can  only  to  a  very  limited  extent  understand  one  another, 
the  same  sentence  or  paragraph  could  not  be  written  in  any 
two  of  them  without  bringing  to  light   such  and  so  many 
resemblances    as    even  to   a  superficial  examination   would 
appear  sure  proof  of  a  genetic  connection.      It  is  past  ques- 
tion that  all  the  Germanic  dialects  are  descendants  and  joiufc 
representatives  of  a  single   tongue,   spoken    somewhere,  at 
Bome  time  in  tlie  past,  by  ^a  single  community,  and  that  all 
the  diifercnces   now   exhibited  by  them  are   owing  to  the 


v.]  ROMANIC    GROUP.  189 

separation  of  this  community,  in  the  progress  of  time,  into 
detached  and  somewhat  isolated  portions,  with  the  consequent 
"breaking  up  into  diverging  lines  and  currents  of  the  common 
stream  of  their  linguistic  tradition.  It  is  even  clear  that,  so 
far  as  concerns  the  surviving  dialects,  the  divergence  was 
primarily  into  three  main  branches,  now  represented  by  the 
three  groups  of  languages  which  have  been  defined  above. 

How  it  happens  that  our  vocabulary  also  contains  so  largo 
a  store  of  words  that  are  foreign  to  all  the  other  Germanic 
dialects,  but  are  shared  with  us  by  the  nations  of  southern 
Europe,  was  fully  set  forth  in  the  last  lecture.  We  saw  that 
the  xS  ormans — who,  though  a  people,  of  Germanic  blood,  had 
lived  long  enough  in  France  to  substitute  the  idiom  of  that 
country  for  their  own  forgotten  tongue — imported  into 
England  a  new  current  of  linguistic  tradition,  which,  after  a 
time,  mingled  peacefully  in  the  same  bed  with  the  former 
one.  The  languages  with  which  ours  is  thus  brought  into  a 
kind  of  relationship  by  marriage  were  seen  to  be  the  French, 
the  Spanish  and  Portuguese,  the  Italian,  the  Hhaeto-Romanic, 
and  the  Wallachian,  each  including  a  host  of  minor  dialects. 
The  descent  of  these  tongues,  constituting  together  the 
Komanic  group  o:^  family,  from  a  common  mother,  the  Latin, 
is  written  down  in  full  upon  the  pages  of  history,  and  has 
been  by  us  already  briefly  reviewed. 

That  these  two  important  families  of  human  language,  the 
Germanic  and  the  Eomanic,  are  also  in  remoter  degree 
related  to  one  another  and  to  other  ancient  and  modern 
families,  as  joint  branches  of  a  yet  more  extensive  family,  is 
a  truth  equally  undeniable,  although  not  equally  obvious. 
That  it  might  be.  so  is  evident  enough,  accordino:  to  the 
principles  which  we  have  already  established  respecting  the 
life  of  language.  There  is  no  limit  assignable  to  the  extent 
to  which  the  descendants  of  a  common  linguistic  stock  may 
diverge  and  become  separated  froin*one  another.  The  ques- 
tion is  one  of  fact,  of  evidence.  Only  a  careful  and  thorough 
sifting  of  their  linguistic  material  can  determine  how  far  the 
ramifications  of  genetical  relationship  may  bind'  together 
languages  apparently  diverse.  If  two  kindred  tongues  can, 
by  divergent  growth,  come  to  differ  froii  each  other  as  much 


190  OTHER   GROUPS    OF    LANGUAGES  [lECT. 

as  English  and  G-erman,  there  is  no  a  priori  ground  for  be- 
lieving that  they  may  not  come  to  differ  as  much  as  English 
and  Polish,  or  Greek,  or  Hindustani.  And,  by  approved 
scientific  methods  of  linguistic  research,  students  of  language 
have  traced  out  the  boundaries  of  a  grand  f;imily  of  human 
speech,  embracing,  along  with  the  Germanic  and  Romanic 
groups,  nearly  all  the  other  tongues  of  Europe,  and  those  of 
no  small  portion  of  south-western  Asia.  AVe  will  accordingly 
go  on  first  to  pass  in  review  the  various  branches  claimed  to 
constitute  this  family,  and  then  to  examine  the  evidence 
upon  which  the  claim  is  founded. 

Of  nearest  kindred  with  the  Latin,  as  well  as  most  nearly 
associated  with  it  in  history,  is  the  ancient  Greek,  its  classic 
compeer,  but  its  superior  in  flexibility  and  beauty  ;  superior, 
too,  as  regards  the  genius  and  culture  of  those  to  whom  it 
served  as  the  instrument  of  thought  ;  but  of  far  less  con- 
spicuous career,  and  making  at  the  present  day  but  an  in- 
significant figure  in  the  sum  of  human  speech,  being  spoken 
only  by  the  scanty  population  of  Greece  itself,  and  by  the 
peoples,  partly  of  Greek  origin,  which  fill  the  islands  and 
line  the  shores  of  the  ^gean  and  Black  seas. 

The  languages  displaced  by  the  Latin  were,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  great  part  Celtic.  At  the  beginning  of  the  historic 
period,  the  domain  of  the  Celts  included  no  mean  portion  of 
the  soil  of  Europe.  Britain,  Gaul,  a  part  of  Spain,  and  the 
north  of  Italy,  together  with  some  of  the  provinces  of 
central  Europe,  were  in  their  possession.  But  the  more 
energetic  and  persistent  Italic  and  Germanic  races  soon 
began  to  gain  ground  upon  them :  and  no\v,  for  a  long  suc- 
cession of  centuries,  no  Celtic  tribe  of  any  importance  has 
maintained  its  integrity  and  independence.  The  Erse,  or 
Gaelic  of  the  Scotch  Highlands,  the  native  Irish,  or  Gaelic 
of  IrcLand,  and  the  insignificant  dialect  of  the  Isle  of  Man, 
representing  together  the  Gadhelic  division  of  Celtic  speech — 
and  the  Welsh  in  "Wales,  and  the  Breton  or  Armorican  in 
Brittany,  representatives  of  the  other,  the  Cymric  division, 
are  the  scanty  remains  of  that  great  family  of  related  touguea 
which,  but  little  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago,  occupied 


V,]  AKIN   WITH    ENGLISH.  191 

more  territory  than  Q-erman,  Latin,  and  Grreek  combined  ; 
and  they  are  all,  probably,  on  their  way  to  extinction. 

Tbe  eastern  part  of  Europe  is  mainly  filled  by  tbe  numer- 
ous branches  of  anotaer  important  family,  the  Slavic  or  Sla- 
vonic. Altliough  somewhat  encroached  upon  on  tbe  west  by 
the  Grermanic,  it  bas,  upon  the  whole,  from  inconspicuous 
beginnings,  grown  steadily  in  consequence  since  its  first 
appearance  on  the  stage  of  liistory,  and  now  occupies  a  com- 
manding position  eastward,  as  the  vebicle  of  civilization  to 
northern  and  central  Asia.  It  covers  m^ost  of  Russia  in 
Europe,  with  Poland,  tbe  eastern  provinces  of  Austria,  and 
tbe  northern  of  Turkey.  Among  its  principal  branches  are 
the  Russian,  "witb  numerous  subdivisions,  the  Polish,  tbe 
Bohemian,  the  Servian,  and  tbe  Bulgarian.  All  these  are 
as  distinctly  and  closely  akin  witb  one  another  as  are  the 
modern  Germanic  dialects. 

A  more  remotely  allied  brancb  of  tbe  same  family,  con- 
stituting almost  a  family  by  itself,  occupies  a  narrow  territory 
about  the  great  bend  of  the  Baltic  sea,  from  the  gulf  of 
Einland  to  beyond  the  Grerman  frontier,  and  comprises  the 
Lithuanian,  the  Livonian  or  Lettish,  and  tbe  Old  Prussian. 
The  latter  is  already  extinct,  and  the  others  also  appear  to 
be  going  gradually  out  of  existence,  under  pressure  of  the 
assimilating  influence  exerted  upon  them  by  the  languages  of 
the  surrounding  more  powerful  communities. 

We  have  tlius  reviewed  all  the  languages  of  modern 
Europe,  excepting,  first,  the  Albanian,  which  is  the  living 
representative  of  the  ancient  Illyrian,  and  of  which  the  con- 
iie<!tions  are  doubtful  (although  it  is  likely  to  be  yet  proved 
to  belong  with  the  rest,  as  a  branch  of  the  same  stock)  ; 
secondly,  the  Basque,  in  the  Pyrenees,  a  wholly  isolated  and 
problematical  tongue ;  thirdly,  the  Hungarian,  with  its  rela- 
tives, the  Finnish  and  Lappish  of  the  extreme  north,  and 
other  languages  spoken  by  scattered  tribes  in  northern  aud 
eastern  Russia ;  and  finally,  the  Turkish  and  its  congeners, 
which  do .  but  overlap  slightly  the*  south-eastern  frontier. 
These  tw^o  last  groups,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter  (in  the 
eighth  lecture),  are  of  a  kindred  that  occupies  no  small  part 


192  CONSTITUTION    OF    THE  [lEOT. 

of  northern  and  central  Asia.  But  before  we  have  gathered 
in  all  the  members  of  the  great  family  we  are  seeking  to 
establish,  we  must  cross  the  border  of  Europe,  and  enter 
southern  Asia. 

Asia  Minor  is  chiefly  in  the  hands  of  Turldsh  tribes,  who 
have  crowded  themselves  in  there  in  comparatively  modern 
times,  driving  out,  or  subjecting  and  assimilating,  the  previous 
occupants.      The    same    races   stretch   eastward,   across  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Caspian  sea,  intervening  between 
Europe  and  the  countries  whose  speech  shows  afSjiity  with 
that  of  Europe.     But  within,  in  the  hilly  provinces  of  Media 
and    Persia,    and    on    the    great    Iranian    table-land,   which 
stretches  thence  to  the  Indus,  we  find  again  abimdant  traces 
of  a  linguistic  tradition  coinciding  ultimately  with  our  own. 
The  Persian,  with  all  its  dialects,  ancient  and  modern,  and 
with  its  outliers    on  the    north-west    and   on  the   east — as 
the  Armenian,  the  Kurdish,  the  Ossetic,  and  the  Afghan — 
constitutes  a  branch  of  our  family,  the  Persian  or  Iranian 
bi'anch.     And  yet  one  step  farther  we  are  able  to  pursue  the 
same  tie  of  connection.     The  Iranian  languages  conduct  us 
to  the  very  borders  of  India :  beyond  those  borders,  in  Hin- 
dustan, between  the  bounding  walls  of  the  Himalayas  and 
Vindhyas,  and  eastward  to  the  mouths  of  the  Ganges,  lies  the 
easternmost  branch  of  that  grand  division  of  human  speech 
to  which  our  own  belongs,  the  Indian  brands,  comprising  the 
ancient  Sanskrit,  with  its  derived  and  kindred  languages. 
The   seven   groups  of  languages  at  which   we  have  thus 
j    glanced — namely,  the   Indian,  the  Persian,  the   Greek,  the 
I    Latin,  the  Slavonic  (including  the  Lithuanic),  the  Germanic, 
'    and  the    Celtic — each   made   up   of  numerous  dialects  and 
«ub-dialects,  are  the  members  composing  one  vast  and  highly- 
:   imj^ortant  family  of  human  speech,  to  wliich,  from  the  names 
I   of  its  two  extreme  members,  we  give   the   title  of  "  Indo- 
y  European,"     It  is  known  also  by  various  other  designations : 
some  style  it  "Japhetic,"  as  if  it  appertained  to  the  descendants 
of  the  patriarch  Jaj)liet,  as  the  so-called  "  Semitic"  tongues  to 
the  descendants  of  Sliem  ;  "  Aryan  "  is  a  yet  more  popular  and 
customary  name  for  it,  but  is  liable  to  objection,  as  being  mord 
especially  appropriate  to  the  joint  Indo-Pcisian  branch  of 


v.]  INDO-EUROPEAN    FAMILY.  193 

the  family,  since  it  is.  used  by  them,  and  them  alone,  in  de- 
eignating  thcmselres  ;  and  a  few  still  employ  the  term  "  Indo- 
G-ermanic,"  which  seems  to  savour  of  national  prepossession, 
since  no  good  reason  can  be  given  why,  among  the  western 
branches,  the  Grennaiiic  should  be  singled  out  for  representa- 
tion in  the  general  title  of  the  family. 

The  languages  of  this  whole  family  sustain  to  one  another 
a  relation  which  is  the  same  in  kind  with  that  subsisting 
between  the  various  Grcrmanic  dialects,  and  differs  from  it 
only  in  degree.  That  the  signs  of  their  relationship  escape 
the  notice  of  a  superficial  observer — that  the  school-boy,  or 
even  the  college-student,  when  toiling  over  his  Greek  and 
Latin  tasks,  does  not  suspect,  and  might  be  hard  to  per- 
suade, that  the  classical  languages  and  his  mother-tongue 
are  but  modified  forms  of  the  same  original,  is  evidently  no 
ground  for  discrediting  the  fact.  The  uninstruCted  English 
speaker,  as  we  have  seen,  finds  even  the  nearly  kindred 
German  as  strange  and  unintelligible  as  the  Turkish :  both 
are  to  him  in  equal  degree,  as  he  says,  "all  Dutch,"  or  "all 
Greek  ; "  and  jet,  a  little  learning  enables  him  to  find  half 
his  native  vocabulary,  in  a  somewhat  changed  but  still  plainly 
recognizable  form,  in  the  German  dictionary.  A  higher  de- 
gree of  instruction  is  required,  in  order  to  the  discovery  and 
appreciation  of  that  evidence  which  proves  the  remoter  rela- 
tionship of  the  Indo-European  tongues  ;  a  wider  comparison,  a 
more  skilled  and  penetrating  analysis,  must  be  applied ;  but, 
by  its  application,  the  conclusion  is  reached  just  as  directly 
and  surely  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  The  inquirer 
fully  convinces  himself  that  the  correspondences  in  their 
material  and  structure  are  too  numerous,  and  of  too  intimate 
a  character,  to  be  explained  with  any  plausibility  by  the 
supposition  of  accidental  coincidence,  or  of  mutual  borrowing 
or  imitation ;  that  they  can  only  be  the  consequence  of  a 
common  linguistic  tradition. 

Any  complete  or  detailed  exhibition  of  the  evidence  which 
shows  the  original  unity  of  the  languages  claimed  to  consti- 
tute the  Indu-European  family  is,  of  course,  utterly  im- 
possible within  the  necessary  limits  of  these  lectures;  but  it 
is  altogether  desirable  that  we  should  direct  our  attention  tc 

13 


19Ji  CLASSES   OF    CORRESPONDING   WORDS  [lECT. 

at  least  a  few  samples  of  the  correspondences  from  which  so 
important  a  truth  is  derived.  It  will  be  allowable  to  do  this 
the  more  succinctly,  inasmuch  as  the  truth  is  one  now  so 
well  established  and  so  generally  received,  and  of  which  the 
proof  is  already  familiar  to  so  many.  We  may  fairly  claim, 
indeed,  that  it  is  denied  only  by  those  who  are  ignorant  of 
t'ne  facts  and  methods  of  linguistic  reasoning,  or  whose  judg- 
ments are  blinded  by  preconceived  opinion. 

I  shall  not  strive  after  originality  in  my  selection  of 
the  correspondences  which  illustrate  the  common  origin 
of  the  Indo-European  tongues,  but  shall  follow  the  course 
already  many  times  trodden  by  others.  This  is  one  which 
is  marked  out  by  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  It  would 
be  extremely  easy,  choosing  out  any  t\A  o  from  among  the 
languages  which  we  wish  to  compare — as  the  Latin  and 
Greek,  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit,  the  Latin  and  Eussian, 
the  Lithuanian  and  German  —  to  draw  up  long  lists  of 
"words  common  to  both,  out  of  every  part  of  their  respective 
vocabularies  ;  especially,  if  we  were  to  take  the  time  and 
pains  to  enter  into  a  discussion  of  the  laws  governing  their 
phonetic  variations,  and  so  to  point  out  their  obscure  as 
well  as  their  more  obvious  correspondences  :  and  we  nn'ght 
thus  satisfactorily  prove  them  all  related,  by  proving  each 
one  related  with  each  of  the  rest  in  succession.  When, 
however,  we  seek  for  words  which  are  clearly  and  palpably 
identical  in  all  or  nearly  all  the  branches  of  the  family,  we 
have  to  resort  to  certain  special  classes,  as  the  numerals  and 
the  pronouns.  The  reason  of  this  it  is  not  difficult  to  point 
out.  Yov  a  large  portion  of  the  objects,  acts,  and  states,  of 
the  names  for  which  our  languages  are  composed,  it  is  com- 
paratively easy  to  find  new  designations :  they  otfer  numer- 
ous salient  points  for  the  names-giving  faculty  to  seize  upon  ; 
the  characteristic  qualities,  the  analogies  with  other  things^ 
which  suggest  and  call  forth  synonymous  or  nearly  synonym- 
ous titles,  are  many.  Hence  a  language  may  originate  a 
variety  of  a])])cllations  for  the  same  thing — as,  for  horse,  we 
liave  also  the  almost  equivalent  names  steed,  nag,  courser^ 
racer  ;  and  further,  for  the  different  kinds  and  conditioiis  of 
the  same  animal,  the  names  stallion,  mare,  gelding,  Jilly,  coltf 


v.]  IN    THE    INDO-EUROPEAN    LANGUAGES.  195 

pony,  and  others — and,  in  the  breaking  up  of  the  language 
into  dialects,  one  of  tliese  synonymous  appellations  is  liable 
to  become  the  prevailing  one  in  one  dialect,  another  in 
another,  to  the  neglect  and  loss  of  all  but  the  one  selected. 
Or,  a  new  name  is  started  in  a  single  dialect,  wins  currency 
there,  and  crowds  out  of  use  its  predecessors.  The  German, 
for  instance,  has,  indeed,  our  word  horse,  in  the  form  ross 
(earlier  liros),  but  employs  it  more  rarely,  preferring  to  use 
instead  pferd,  a  word  of  w^hich  we  know  nothing.  The 
modern  Eomanic  tongues,  too,  say  in  the  same  sense  cahallo^ 
clieval,  etc.,  words  coming  from  the  Latin  cahallus,  '  nag,' 
and  they  have  lost  almost  altogether  the  more  usual  and 
dignified  Latin  term  equus.  Thus,  further,  the  modern 
French  name  for  '  shoemaker  '  is  cordonnier,  literally  '  worker 
in  Cordovan  leather ; '  for  '  cheese,'  fromage,  properly 
'pressed  into  a  form,  moulded;'  for  '  liver,' yb/e,  originally 
*  cooked  with  figs  ' — that  fruit  having  been,  as  it  seems,  at  a 
certain  period,  the  favourite  garnish  for  dishes  of  liver: 
while  the  Latin  appellations  of  these  three  objects  have  gone 
out  of  use  and  out  of  memory.  But  for  the  numerals  and 
pronouns  our  languages  have  never  shown  any  disposition  to 
create  a  synon^nuy  ;  it  was,  as  we  may  truly  say,  no  easy  task 
for  the  linguistic  faculty  to  arrive  at  a  suitable  sign  for  the 
ideas  they  convey ;  and,  when  the  sign  was  once  found,  it 
maintained  itself  thenceforth  in  use  everywhere,  without 
danger  of  replacement  by  any  other,  of  later  coinage.  Hence 
all  the  Indo-European  nations,  however  widely  they  may  be 
separated,  and  ho^vever  discordant  in  manners  and  civiliza- 
tion, count  with  the  same  words,  and  use  the  same  personal 
pronouns  in  individual  address — the  same,  with  the  excep- 
tion, of  course,  of  the  changes  which  phonetic  corruption  has 
wrought  upon  their  forms. 

Eor  reasons  not  so  easily  explainable,  the  Indo-European 
languages  show  a  hardly  less  noteworthy  general  accordance 
in  regard  to  the  terms  by  which,  within  the  historical  period, 
or  down  even  to  the  present  time,  they  indicate  the  degreea 
of  near  relationship,  such  as  father,  mother,  daughter,  brother j 
sister.  Formed,  as  these  words  were,  in  the  earliest  period 
of  history  of  the  common  mother- tongue,  they  have  in  nearly 

13  * 


196 


CORRESPONDENCES   IN   THE 


[lect. 


all  its  branctes  escaped  being  superseded  by  expressions  of 
later  growth,  although  there  is  hardly  one  of  them  which 
does  not  here  and  there  exhibit  a  modern  substitute. 

The  following  table  will  set  forth,  it  is  believed,  in  a  plain 
and  apprehensible  manner  some  of  the  correspondences  of 
which  we  have  been  speaking,  For  the  sake  of  placing 
their  value  in  a  clearer  light,  I  add  under  each  word  its 
equivalents  in  three  of  the  languages — namely  Arabic, 
Turkish,  and  Hungarian — which,  though  neighbours  of  the 
Indo-European  tongues,  or  enveloped  by  them,  are  of  wholly 
different  kindred.  ■• 


English 

two 

three 

seven 

thou 

me 

mother 

brother 

Germanic : 

Dutch 

Icelandic 

Hiirh-German 

Mie.so-Gotliic 
Litliuanic 
Slavonic 
Celtic 
Latin 
Greek 
P.-rsian 
Sanskrit 

tiree 
tvo 

Z-rei 

tiva 

du 

dwa 

dau 

duo 

dilo 

dwa 

diixi 

drie 

ihriv, 

drei 

thri 

tri 

tri 

tri 

tres 

tviis 

thri 

tri 

thalath 

iich 

harom 

zeven 

siU 

siebcn 

siOun 

septyni 

set  I  mi 

ser.ht 

se,>tejn 

hepta 

luipta 

sapta 

sab' 
ydi 
ha 

thu 

du 

thu 

tu 

tii 

!tl 

tu 

sii 

turn 

twam 

anta 

sen 

U 

mij 

mik 

mich 

mik 

mnn^n 

man 

me 

me 

me 

me 

me 

moeder 
inodhir 
mutter 

moter 

mater 

mothair 

mater 

viiter 

iimtar 

mafar 

umm 

ani 

anya 

broeder 

biodhir 

bruil^r 

brothar 

brolis 

brat 

brathair 

/rater 

phrater 

bhratar 

akh 

ka)ilash 

filer 

Araliic 

Tnrkish 

Hungarian 

ithn 

ild 

ket 

ana 
ben 
engem 

daughter 


dochter 

dottir 

tochter 

dauhtar 

dukter 

dijchy 

dear  {7^ 

thugater 

duhitar 

bint 

kiz 

leany 


I  have  selected,  of  course,  for  inclusion  in  this  table, 
those  w^ords  of  the  several  classes  represented  which  exhibit 
most  clearly  their  actual  unity  of  descent :  in  others,  it  would 
require  some  detailed  discussion  of  phonetic  relations  to 
make  the  same  unity  appear.  Thus,  the  Sanskrit  panca,  the 
Greek  pente,  the  Latin  qiiinque,  and  the  Grothic  Jimf,  all 
meaning  '  five,'  are  as  demonstrably  the  later  metamorphoses 
of  a  single  original  word  as  are  the  varying  forms  of  the 
primitive  trl^  '  three,'  given  above :  each  of  their  phonetic 
changes  being  supported  by  numerous  analogies  in  tlie 
respective  languages.  The  whole  scheme  of  numeral  and 
pronominal  forms  and  of  terms  of  relationship  is  substantially 
one  and  the  same  in  all  the  tongues  ranked  as  Indo-Eii- 
ro])ean. 

These  facts,  of  themselves,  would  go  fir  toward  ])roving 
the  original   unity  of  the  languages   in  q'lestion.     To  look 


▼.]  INDO-EUROPEAN   LANGUAGES.  197 

upon  correspondences  like  those  here  given  as  the  result  of 
accident  is  wholly  preposterous :  no  sane  man  would  think 
of  ascribing  them  to  such  a  cause.  Nor  is  the  hypothesis  of 
a  natural  and  inherent  bond  betvveen  the  sound  and  the 
sense,  which  would  prompt  language -makers  in  different 
parts  of  the  earth  to  assign,  independently  of  one  another, 
these  names  to  these  conceptions,  at  all  more  admissible. 
The  existence  of  a  natural  bond  could  be  claimed  with  even 
the  slightest  semblance  of  plausibility  only  in  the  case  of  the 
pronouns  and  the  words  for  *  father '  and  '  mother ; '  and 
there,  too,  the  claim  could  be  readily  disposed  of — if,  indeed, 
it  be  not  already  sufficiently  refuted  by  the  w^ords  from  stranger 
tongues  which  are  cited  in  the  table.  Mutual  borrowing,  too, 
transfer  from  one  tongue  to  another,  would  be  equally  far 
from  furnishing  an  acceptable  explanation.  "Were  we  dealing 
with  two  or  three  neighbouring  dialects  alone,  the  suggestion 
of  such  a  borrowing  w^ould  not  be  so  palpably  futile  as 
in  the  case  in  hand,  where  the  facts  to  be  explained  are 
found  in  so  many  tongues,  covering  a  territory  which  stretches 
from  the  mouths  of  the  Granges  to  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic. 
A  modified  form  of  the  hypothesis  of  mutual  borrowing  is  put 
forth  by  some  who  are  indisposed  to  admit  the  essential  one- 
ness of  Indo-European  speech.  Some  tribe  or  race,  they 
say,  of  higher  endowments  and  culture,  has  leavened  with  its 
material  and  usages  the  tongues  of  all  these  scattered  peoples, 
engrafting  upon  their  original  diversity  an  element  of  agree- 
ment and  unity.  But  this  theory  is  just  as  untenable  as  the 
others  which  we  have  been  reviewing.  Instances  of  mixture 
of  languages — resulting  either  from  the  transmission  of  a 
higher  and  more  favoured  culture,  or  from  a  somewhat  equal 
and  intimate  mingling  of  races,  or  from  both  together — have 
happened  during  the  historical  period  in  sufficient  numbers 
to  allow  the  linguistic  student  to  see  plainly  what  are  its 
effects  upon  language,  and  that  they  are  very  different 
from  those  which  make  the  identity  of  Indo-European  lan- 
guage. The  introduction  of  culture  and  knowledge,  of  art  and 
science,  may  bring  in  a  vocabulary  of  expressions  for  the  know- 
ledge communicated,  the  conceptions  taught  or  prompted ;  but 
it  cannot  touch  the  most  intimate  fund  of  speech,  the  words 


198  CORRESPONDENCES  IN  THE  [lECT. 

significant  of  those  ideas  without  wliose  designation  no 
spoken  tongue  would  be  worthy  of  the  name.  If  we  could 
possibly  suppose  that  the  rude  ancestors  of  the  Indo-Eu- 
ropean nations,  more  brutish  than  the  Africans  and  Polyne- 
sians of  the  present  day,  were  unable  to  count  their  fingers  even 
until  taught  by  some  missionary  tribe  which  went  from  one 
to  the  other,  scattering  these  first  rudiments  of  mathematical 
knowledge,  we  might  attribute  to  its  influence  the  close 
correspondence  of  the  Indo-European  numeral  systems ;  but 
tlien  we  should  have  farther  to  assume  that  the  same  teachers 
instructed  them  how  to  address  one  another  with  /  and  tJiou, 
and  how  to  name  the  members  of  their  own  families  :  and 
-  who  will  think  of  maintaining  such  an  absurdity  ?  All  the 
;.'  preponderating  influence  of  the  Sanskrit-sj^eakiug  tribes  of 
northern  India  over  the  ruder  population  of  the  Dekhan,  to 
which  they  gave  religion,  philosophy,  and  polity,  has  only 
resulted  in  filling  the  tongues  of  the  south  with  learned 
Sanskrit,  much  as  our  own  English  is  filled  with  learned 
Latin  and  Greek.  Even  that  coalescence  of  nearly  equal 
populations,  languages,  and  cultures  out  of  wliich  has  grown 
the  tongue  we  speak,  has,  as  was  pointed  out  in  the  fourth 
of  these  lectures,  left  the  language  of  common  life  among 
us — the  nucleus  of  a  vocabulary  which  the  child  first  learns, 
and  every  English  speaker  uses  every  day,  almost  every 
hour — still  overwhelmingly  Saxon :  the  English  is  Grermanic 
in  its  fundamental  structure,  though  built  higher  and  de- 
corated in  every  part  with  Eomanic  material.  So  is  it  also 
with  the  Persian,  in  its  relation  to  the  Arabic,  of  whose 
material  its  more  learned  and  artificial  styles  are  in  great 
part  made  up  ;  so  with  the  Turkish,  of  which  the  same  thing 
is  true  with  regard  to  the  Persian  and  Arabic.  But  most  of 
all  do  these  cases  of  the  mingling  of  different  tongues  in  one 
language,  and  every  other  known  case  of  a  like  character, 
show  that  the  grammatical  sy.->tem,  the  apparatus  of  inflection 
and  word-making,  the  means  by  which  vocables,  such  as  they 
stand  in  their  order  in  the  dictionary,  are  taken  out  and 
woven  together  into  connected  discourse,  resists  longest  and 
most  obstinately  any  trace  of  intermixture,  tlie  intrusion  of 
foreign  elements  and  foreign  habits.    However  many  Erench 


T.] 


INDO-EUROPEAN    LANGUAGES. 


199 


nouns  and  verbs  were  admitted  to  full  citizenship  in  Englisli 
speech,  they  all  had  to  give  up  in  this  respect  their  former 
nationality :  every  one  of  them  was  declined  or  coujugated 
after  Grermanic  models.  Such  a  tiling  as  a  language  with  a 
mixed  grammatical  apparatus  has  never  come  under  the 
cognizance  of  linguistic  students  :  it  -would  be  to  them  a 
monstrosity ;  it  seems  an  impossibility,  jN^ow  the  Indo- 
European  languages  are  full  of  the  plainest  and  most  un- 
equivocal correspondences  of  grammatical  structure ;  they 
show  abundant  traces  of  a  common  system  of  word-formation, 
of  declension,  of  conjugation,  however  disguised  by  the  cor- 
ruptions and  overlaid  by  the  new  developments  of  a  later  time: 
and  these  traces  are,  above  all  others,  the  most  irrefutable 
evideiices  of  the  substantial  unity  of  their  linguistic  tradition. 
We  will  notice  but  a  single  specimen  of  this  kind  of  evidences, 
the  most  striking  one,  perhaps,  which  Indo-European  gram- 
mar has  to  exhibit.  This  is  the  ordinary  declension  of  the 
verb,  in  its  three  persons  singular  and  plural.  In  drawing 
out  the  comparison,  we  cannot  start,  as  before,  from  the 
English,  because,  as  has  been  shown  in  a  previous  lecture 
(the  third),  the  English  has  lost  its  ancient  apparatus  of 
personal  endings :  we  must  represent  the  whole  Germanic 
branch  by  its  oldest  member,  the  Moeso-Grothic.  The  table 
is  as  follows  :  * 


English 

'  I  have ' 

'  thou  hast ' 

'  be  has ' 

'  we  have ' 

'  ye  have ' 

'  they  have 

Moeso-GoUiic 
Mod.  Persian 
Celtic 
Litluianic 

haba 
-m 
-m 
-mi 

habai-8 
-si 

habai-th 
■d 
-d 

-ti 

haba-m 

-TO 

-m 
-me 

hdbai-th 
-d 
-d 
-tc 

haba-^d 
•nd 
-t 
-ti 

Siavonic 
Latin 
Greek 
Sanskrit 

-mi 
habeo 

-mi 
-mi 

-SI 

?M^e-s 
-si 
-si 

-ti 
habe-t 
-ti 
-ti 

-mu 
hdbe-mus 
-vies 
-masi 

-te 

habe-tis 

-te 

-tlM 

-nti 

habe-nt 

-nti 

■nti 

Fundamental  and  far-reaching  as  are  the  correspondences, 

*  Owing  to  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  single  verb  which  shall  present  the 
endings  iu  all  the  different  languages,  the  verb  to  have  has  been  selected,  and 
given  in  full  in  the  two  languages  in  which  it  occurs,  the  terminations  alone 
being  elsewhere  written.  These  are  not  ir  all  cases  the  most  usual  endings 
of  conjugation,  but  such  as  are  found  in  ve.X  or  in  dialects,  which  hav^ 
preserved  more  faithfully  their  primitivb  forms. 


200  THE    INDO-EUHOPEAN    MOTHER-TRIBE.  [lECT. 

of  material  and  of  form,  which  have  tlius  been  brought  for- 
ward, it  is  not  necessary  that  we  insist  upon  their  competency, 
alone  and  unaided,  to  prove  the  Indo-European  languages 
only  later  dialectic  forms  of  a  single  original  tongue.     Their 
convincing  force  lies  in  the  fact  that  they  are  selected  in- 
stances, examples  chosen  from  among  a  host  of  others,  which 
abound  in  every  part  of  the  grammar  and  vocabulary  of  all 
the  languages  in  question,  now  so  plain  as  to  strike  the  eye 
of  even  the  liasty  student,  now  so  hidden  under  later  peculiar 
growth  as  to  be  only  with  difficulty  traceable  by  the  acute 
and  practised  linguistic  analyst.      He  who  would  know  them 
better   may  find   them   in  such  works  as  the  Comparative 
Grammars  of  Bopp  and  Schleicher  and  the  Grreek  Etymolo- 
gies of  Curtius.     An  impartial  examination  of  them   must 
persuade  even  the  most  sceptical  that  these  tongues  exhibit 
resemblances  which  can  be  accounted  for  only  on  the  suppo- 
sition of  a  prevailing  identity  of  linguistic  tradition,  such  as 
belongs  to  the  common  descendants  of  one  and  the  same 
mother- tongue.      On   the  other   hand,  all  their  difierences, 
great  and  widely  sundering  as  these  confessedly  are,  can  be 
fully  explained  by  the  prolonged  operation  of  the  same  causes 
which  have  broken  up  the  Latin  into  the  modern  Eomanic 
dialects,  or  the  original  Germanic  tongue  into   its   various 
existing  forms,  and  which  have  converted  the  Anglo-Saxon  of 
a  thousand  years  ago  into  our  present  English.     Besides  its 
natural  divergent  growth,  the  original  Indo-European  tongue 
has  doubtless  been  in  some  degree  diversified  by  intermixture 
here  and  there  with  languages  of  other  descent ;  but  there  is 
no  reason  for  believing  that  this  has  been  an  element  of  any 
considerable  importance  in  its  history  of  development.      At 
some  period,  then,  in  the  past,  and  in  some  limited  region  of 
Europe  or  Asia,  lived  a  tribe  from  whose  imperfect  dialect 
have  descended  all  those  rich  and  cultivated  tongues  now 
spoken  and  written  by  the  teeming  millions  of  Europe  and 
of  some  of  the  fairest  parts  of  Asia. 

To  know  when  and  where  this  tribe  lived  and  formed  its 
language  is  unfortunately  beyond  our  power.  It  is,  indeed, 
often  assumed  and  asserted  that  the  original  Indo-Europeau 
home  was  in  the  north-eastern  part  of  the  Iranian  plateau, 


F.]  ITS    OIIIGIXAL    HOME    UNKNOWN.  201 

near  tlio  Hindii-Koh  mouiitaius ;  but  so  definite  a  determina- 
tion possesses  not  tlie  slightest  sbado':^'  of  authority  or  value. 
We  really  know  next  to  nothing  of  the  last  movements  which 
have  brought  any  branch  of  the  family  into  its  present  place 
of  abode  ;  even  these  lie  beyond  the  reach  of  the  very 
hoariest  traditions  which  have  come  dowTi  to  us.  The  day- 
light of  recorded  history  dawns  first  upon  the  easternmost, 
the  Indo-Persian  or  Aryan,  branch.  The  time  is  probably 
not  far  from  two  thousand  years  before  Christ.  We  there 
see  the  Sanskrit-speaking  ti^ibes  but  just  across  the  thresh- 
old of  India,  working  their  way  over  the  river-valleys  and 
intervening  sand-plains  of  its  north-western  province,  the 
Penjab,  toward  the  great  fertile  territory,  watered  by  the 
Granges  and  its  tributaries,  of  which  they  are  soon  to  btv- 
come  the  masters  ;  and  we  know  that  India,  at  least,  is  not 
the  first  home,  but  one  of  the  latest  conquests,  of  the  family. 
The  epoch,  however,  early  as  it  appears  to  us,  is  far  from  the 
beginning  of  Indo-European  migrations  ;  the  general  separa- 
tion of  the  branches  had  taken  place  long  before :  and  who 
shall  say  which  of  them  has  wandered  widest,  in  the  search 
after  a  permanent  dwelling-place  ?  The  joint  home  of  In- 
dians and  Persians  was  doubtless  in  north-eastern  Iran, 
the  scene  of  the  oldest  Persian  religious  and  heroic  legend 
and  tradition  ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  whatever  to  prove 
that  they  were  the  aborigines  of  that  region,  and  that  aU. 
migration  had  been  westw^ard  from  thence.*  Greek  history 
and  tradition  also  penetrate  a  little  way  into  the  second 
thousand  years  before  Christ ;  but  the  Grreeks  are  then  al- 
ready in  quiet  possession  of  that  little  peninsula,  with  the 
neighbouring  islands  and  Asiatic  shores,  whence  the  glory  of 
their  genius  afterward  irradiated  the  world ;  and,  for  aught 
that  they  are  able  to  tell  us  of  their  origin,  they  might  have 
sprung  out  of  the  ground  there — born,  according  to  their 
own  story,  of  the  stones  which  Deucalion  and  Pyrrha  threw 

*  Some  authorities  incline  to  regrird  the  geoofraphical  reminiscences  of  the 
Zend-ave>ta  (in  the  first  chapter  of  tlie  Vendidad)  as  indicatinor  the  course  of 
the  joint  Aryan  migration  from  the  original  family  home;  but  the  claim 
appears  to  me  so  wholly  baseless,  and  even  preposterous,  that  I  find  it  diffi* 
cult  to  understand  how  any  man  should  seriously  put  it  forward. 


202  THE    INDO-EUROPEAN    HOME  [lECT. 

behind  tliem.  The  Latin  race  first  appears  as  an  insignificant 
handful  in  central  Italy,  cro\\de'l  by  otl-er  communities,  in 
part  of  kindred  blood  ;  but  no  legend  told  us  respecting  its 
entrance  into  the  Italian  peninsula  is  of  the  very  smallest 
historical  value,  lloman  historians  first  bring  to  our  know- 
ledge the  Celts  and  Grermans.  The  former  are  already  be- 
ginning to  shrink  and  waste  away  within  their  ancient  limits 
before  the  aggressions  of  the  surrounding  races  :  Celtic  tales 
of  the  migrations  westward  which  brought  them  into  their 
European  seats  are  but  lying  legends,  mere  echoes  "of  their 
later  knowledge  of  the  countries  and  nations  to  the  east- 
ward. Grermany  is,  from  the  first,  the  home  of  the  Grermans : 
they  are  a  seething  mass ;  south-eastward  as  well  as  south- 
westward  rove  their  restless  hordes,  disturbing  for  centuries 
the  peace  of  the  civilized  world ;  they  leave  their  traves  in 
every  country  of  middle  Europe,  from  the  Volga  to  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules ;  but  whence  and  when  they  came 
into  Grermany,  we  ask  in  vain.  Last  to  appear  upon  the 
historic  stage  are  the  Slavonians,  in  nearly  their  present 
abodes:  a  less  enterprising,  but  a  stubborn  and  persistent 
race,  whose  lately  acquired  civilization  has  only  within  a 
short  time  begun  to  be  aggressive.  Of  its  own  origin,  it  has 
nothing  at  all  to  say. 

But  if  history  and  tradition  thus  refuse  to  aid  us  in  search- 
ing for  the  Indo-European  home,  neither  do  the  indications 
of  language  point  us  with  anything  like  dcfiniteness  or  cer- 
tainty to  its  locality.  The  tongues  of  the  easternmost 
branches,  the  Persian  and  Indian,  do,  indeed,  exhibit  the  least 
departure  from  that  form  of  speech  which  a  general  com- 
parison of  all  the  dialects  shows  to  have  been  the  primitive 
one  ;  but  this  is  very  far  from  proving  tb.e  peoples  who  speak 
them  to  have  remained  nearest  to  their  primitive  seats. 
Migration  does  not  necessarily  lead  to  rapidity  of  linguistic 
changes,  nor  does  permanence  of  location  always  imply  per- 
sistency of  linguistic  type.  Thus — to  refer  only  to  two  or 
three  striking  facts  among  the  languages  of  this  family — tlie 
Greek  has  preserved  much  more  than  the  Armenian  of  thac 
material  and  structure  which  were  of  earliest  Indo-European 
development,  notwithstanding  the  more  oriental  position  of 


! 


v.]  UNKNOWN    AND    UNDISCOYERABLE.  203 

the  latter ;  of  all  the  existing  tongues  of  the  whole  great 
family,  the  Lithuanian,  on  the  Baltic,  retains  by  far  the  most 
antique  aspect  ;  and,  among  the  Grermanic  dialects,  the 
speech  of  Iceland,  the  latest  Grermanic  colony,  is  least  varied 
from  their  common  type.  All  that  primitiveness  of  form,  in 
respect  both  to  language  and  institutions,  which  characterizes 
the  Aryan  branch  of  the  family — and  especially  the  Indian 
member  of  the  branch,  in  its  oldest  period,  represented  to  us 
in  the  Yedas — w'ould  be  fully  and  satisfactorily  accounted 
for,  without  denying  them  a  long  history  and  wdde  migration, 
by  attributing  to  them  an  exceptionally  conservative  disposi- 
tion— such  a  disposition  as  so  markedly  distinguishes  the 
Indian  above  the  Persian  people  since  their  separation,  mating 
the  former,  in  a  vastly  higher  degree  than  the  latter,  the 
model  and  illustration  of  earliest  Indo-European  antiquity. 

Nor,  again,  are  the  inter-connections  of  the  different 
branches,  so  far  as  yet  made  out,  of  a  nature  to  cast  much 
light  upon  the  history  of  their  wanderings.  That  the  separa- 
tion of  Indian  and  Persian  is  latest  of  all  is,  it  is  true, 
universally  admitted.  Nearly  all  agree,  moreover,  in  allowing 
a  like  special  relationship  of  the  Greek  and  Latiii,  although 
its  comparative  remoteness,  and  the  loss  of  intermediate 
forms,  make  the  question  one  of  decidedly  greater  doubt  and 
difficulty.  Beyond  this,  nothing  is  at  present  firmly  estab- 
lished. The  honour  of  a  later  and  closer  alliance  with  the 
Aryan  or  Indo-Persian  branch  has  been  confidently  claimed 
for  the  classical  or  Grreco-Latin,  for  the  Slavonic,  and  for  the 
Germanic,  respectively.  Within  no  long  time  past,  a  Ger- 
man scholar  of  high  rank  *  has  attempted  to  lay  out  a  scheme 
of  relationship  for  all  the  branches  of  the  family.  He  assumes 
that  the  original  stock  parted  first  into  a  northern  and  a 
southern  grand  di\4sion :  the  northern  included  what  after- 
ward became  the  Germanic  and  the  Slavo-Lithuanic  branches, 
the  latter  of  them  dividing  yet  later  into  Slavonic  and 
liitliuanic  ;  the  southern  was  broken  up  first  into  an  Aryan 
and  a  southern  European  group,  which  respectively  under- 

*  Professor  August  Schleicher,  of  Jena  :  his  views  may  be  found  drawn 
out  in  full  in  the  preface  to  his  interesting  work  on  the  German  language 
CDie  Deutsche  Sprache,  Stuttgart,  1860). 


201  THE    PLACE    AND    TlilE    OF  [lEOT. 

went  farther  separation,  tlie  one  into  Persian  and  Indian,  tlie 
otlier  into  Greek  and  Italo- Celtic  :  while  the  Italic,  of  which 
the  Latin  is  the  chief,  and  tlie  Celtic,  were  the  last  to  begin 
their  independent  history,  being  still  more  closely  related 
than  the  Latin  and  the  Grreek.  The  feature  of  this  arrange* 
ment  which  is  most  calculated  to  repel  rather  than  attract 
assent  is  the  position  assigned  to  the  Celtic  languages. 
Few  scholars  are  ready  to  allow  that  these  tongues,  in  which 
the  original  and  distinctive  features  of  Indo-European  speech 
are  most  of  all  hidden  under  the  manifold  effects  of  decay 
and  new  growth,  whose  Indo-European  character  was  there- 
fore the  last  of  all  to  be  recognized,  and  wliose  separation 
from  the  common  stock  has  been  generally  looked  upon  as 
the  commencement  of  its  dispersions,  are  to  be  regarded  as 
the  nearest  kindred  of  the  Latin — although  no  one  who  re- 
members how  greatly  the  rates  of  linguistic  change  vary 
among  different  peoples  and  under  difiereut  circumstances 
will  venture  to  pronounce  the  connection  impossible.  Tho 
time  has  not  yet  come  for  a  full  settlement  of  these  contro- 
verted points  ;  the  means  of  their  solution  are,  however, 
doubtless  contained  in  the  linguistic  facts  which  lie  within  our 
reach,  and  a  more  thorough  study  and  closer  comparison  will 
one  day  bring  them  to  light,  and  may  perhaps  at  the  same  time 
illustrate  the  course  and  order  of  those  grand  movements  which 
have  brought  the  various  races  of  the  family  into  their  present 
seats.  But  tiiat  sucli  or  any  other  evidences  will  ever  direct 
our  gaze  to  the  j^recise  region  whence  the  movements  had 
their  first  start  is  in  the  very  highest  degree  unlikely ;  and 
in  the  mean  time  it  is  better  candidly  to  confess  our  igno- 
rance than  to  try  to  hold  with  confidence  an  opinion  resting 
upon  grounds  altogether  insufficient  and  untenable.  At  any 
rate,  we  ought  fully  to  acknowledge  that  linguistic  science, 
as  such,  docs  not  presume  to  decide  whether  the  Indo- 
European  home  was  in  Europe  or  in  Asia :  the  utmost  that 
she  does  is  to  set  up  certain  faint  and  general  probabilities, 
which,  combined  with  the  natural  conditions  of  soil  and 
climate,  tlie  traditions  of  other  races,  and  the  direction  of 
the  grand  movements  of  population  in  later  times,  point  tOv 


7.]  INDO-EUROPEAr<    UNITY    UNKNOWN.  205 

tlie   East  rather    than   the   West    as  the  startiug-point   of 
mi^T'ation. 

If  the  question  of  place  must  thus  he  left  unsettled,  that 
of  time  is  not  less  uncertain.      The  geologist  makes  hitherto 
but  lame  and  blundering  work  of  establishing  an  absolute 
chronology  for  even  the  latest  alterations  of  the  earth-crust ; 
and  the  student  of  language  is  compelled  to  found  his  estimates 
upon  data  not  less  scanty  and  questionable.     The  strata  of 
human  speech  laid  down  iu   past  ages  have  suifered   most 
sweeping    and   irrestorable    denudation,    and   their    rate    of 
growth  during  our  present  period  is  too  greatly  varying  to 
furnish  us  a,ny  sp^fe  standard  of  general  application.      But  to 
Bet  a  date  lower  than  three  thousand  years  before  Clirist  foi^  j 
the  dispersion  of  the  Indo-European  family  would  doubtlesaj 
be  altogether  inadmissible  ;  and  the  event  is  most  likely  to' 
have  taken  place  far  earlier.     Late  discoveries  are  showing 
us  that  the  antiquity  of  the  human  race  upon  the  earth  must 
be  much  greater  than  has  been  generally  supposed.       Vistaa 
of  wonderful  interest  are  opened  here,  down  which  we  can 
only    catch  glimpses  ;    but  the   comparative   brevity   of  the 
period   covered   by   human   records  must  make    us   modest 
about  claiming  that  we  shall  ever   understand  much  about 
ultimate  beginnings,  the  first  origin  of  races^. 

As  regards,  however,  the  grade  of  civilization  and  mode  of 
life  of  the  Indo-European  mother-tribe  before  its  separation 
into  branches,  the  study  of  language  is  in  condition  to  give 
us  more  definite  and  ti-ustworthy  information.  It  is  evident- 
ly wathin  our  powder  to  restore,  to  a  certain  extent,  the 
original  vocabulary  of  the  tribe,  out  of  the  later  vocabularies 
of  the  different  branches.  These  are  composed  of  words  of 
every  age,  from  the  most  recent  to  the  most  primitive.  As 
the  principal  features  of  grammatical  structure  were  struck 
out  before  the  dispersion,  and  are  yet  traceable  by  the  com- 
parative philologist  amid  the  host  of  newer  formations  which 
surround  them,  so  was  it  also  with  the  developed  material  of 
speech,  with  the  names  for  such  objects,  and  acts,  and  pro- 
cesses, and  products,  as  the  community  had  already  found 
occasion,  and  acquired  power,  to  express :    they  constituted 


206  GRADE    OF    CULTURE    OF  [lECT. 

the  linguistic  patrimony  with  which  eacli  branch  commenced 
its  separate  hi.story,  and  may  still  be  seen  among  the  stores 
of  more  recent  acquisition.      Any  word  which  is  found  in  the 
possession  of  all  or  nearly  all  the  branches  is,  unless  there  be 
special  reasons  to  the  contrary,  to  be  plausibly  regarded  as 
having  formed  part   of  their  common   inheritance  from   the 
time   of  their  unity.      A  vocabulary   constructed   of  words 
thus  hunted  out  can  be,  indeed,  but  aa  imperfect  one,  since 
no  one  can  tell  what  proportion  of  the  primitive  tongue  may 
have  become  altogether  lost,  or  changed  by  phonetic  corrup- 
tion past  possibility  of  recognition,  in  the  later  dialects  of  so 
many  branches  that  its  true  character  is  no  longer  discover- 
able :  but,  if  the  list  be  drawn  up  with  due  skill  and  care, 
it  may  be  depended  upon  as  far  as  it  goes.    And  as,  from  the 
stock  of  words  composing  any  existing  or  recorded  language, 
"we  can  directly  draw  important  conclusions  respecting  the 
knowledge,  circumstances,  and  manners  of  the  people  who 
speak  it,  so  we  ca7i  do  the  same  thing  wdth  the  fragment  of 
Indo-European  speech  w^hich  we  shall  have  thus  set  up.    •  It 
is  obvious,  too,   that   the  results   of  such  an  investigation 
must  be  more  satisfactory,  the  more  primitive  and  unlettered 
the  people  respecting  which  it  is  made,  the  more  exclusively 
native  in  origin  and  restricted  in  scope  their  civilization,      A 
language  like  our  own  is  an   immense  encyclopedia,  as   it 
were,  in  which  are  laid  away  the  cognitions  and  experiences 
of  a  whole  world,  and  of  numerous  generations  ;  it  is  as  many- 
sided,  as  cosmopolitan,  as  hard  to  grasp  and  interpret  in 
detail,  as  is  our  cultnre  ;    while   the   tonii^ue  of  a   rude   and 
isolated  tribe — like  the  Fuegians,   the   Fijians,  the  Eskimos 
— would  be  a  comparatively  plain  and  legible  portraiture  of 
its  condition  and  character. 

Some  of  the  main  results  of  the  investigation  made  by 
means  of  language  into  the  primitive  state  of  that  tribe  which 
spoke  the  mother-tongue  of  tlie  Indo-European  family  have 
been  long  since  drawn  out,  and  are  ah*eady  become  tlie 
i-onimonphircs  of  ctlinological  science.  The  subject  is  far 
from  being  yet  exhausted,  and  we  may  look  forward  to  much 
greater  contidence  of  conclusion  and  deliniteness  of  detail, 
when  all  the  languages  of  the  family  sliall  have  been  more 


r.]  THE    INDO-EUIlOrEAN    MOTHER-TRIBE.  207 

tbiorouglily  compared  and  analyzed,  and  especially  whon  the 
establishment  of  a  true  sclieme  of  degrees  of  relationship 
among  the  branches  shall  reduce  the  doubt  now  thrown  over 
the  primitiveness  of  a  term  bj  its  absence  from  the  languages 
of  some  among  them. 

By  this  kind  of  research,  then,  it  is  found  that  the  primi- 
tive   tribe    which    spoke   the    mother-tongue    of   the   Indo- 
European  family   was  not  nomadic  alone,  but  had   settled 
habitations,   even  towns   and  fortified  places,  and  addicted 
itself  in  part  to  the  rearing  of  cattle,  in  part  to  the  cultivation 
of  the  earth.      It  possessed  our  chief  domestic  animals — the 
horse,  the  ox,  the  sheep,  the  goat,  and  the  swine,  besides  the 
dog  :  the  bear  and  the  wolf  were  foes  that  ravaged  its  flocks  ; 
the   mouse   and   fly  were  already  its  domestic  pests.      The 
region  it  inhabited  was  a  varied  one,  not  bordering  upon  the 
ocean.     The  season  whose  name  has  been  most  persistent  is 
the  winter.      Barley,  and  perhaps  also  wheat,  was  raised  for 
food,  and  converted  into  meal.     Mead  was  prepared  from 
honey,  as   a   cheering  and  inebriating   drink.     The  use  of 
certain  metals  was  known ;  whether  iron  was  one  of  them 
admits  of  question.      The  art  of  weaving  was  practised  ;  wool 
and  hemp,  and  possibly  flax,  being  the  materials  employed. 
Of  other  branches  of  domestic  industry,  little  that  is  definite 
can  be  said  ;  but  those  already  mentioned  imply  a  variety  of 
others  as  coordinate  or  auxiliary  to  them.      The  weapons  of 
offence    and    defence    were    those    which   are    usual  among 
primitive  peoples,  the   sword,  spear,  bow%  and  shield.      Boats 
were  manufactured,  and  moved  by  oars.      Of  extended  and 
elaborate  political  organization  no   traces  are  discoverable : 
the  people  was  doubtless  a  congeries  of  petty  tribes,  under 
chiefs  and  leaders,  rather  than  kings,  and  with  institutions  of 
a  patriarchal  cast,  among  which  the  reduction  to  servitude  of 
prisoners  taken  in  war  appears  not  to  have  been  wanting. 
The  structure  and  relations  of  the  family  are  more  clearly 
seen ;    names  of  its  members,  even  to  the  second  and  third 
degrees  of  consanguinity  and  affinity,  were  already  fixed,  and 
were  significant  of  affectionate  regard  and  trustful  interde- 
pendence.     That  Avoman  was  looked  down  upon,  as  a  being 
in  capacity  and  dignity  inferior  to  man,  we  find  no  indication 


i 


203  ORIGINAL    INDO-J-:UROrEAN    CULTURE. 

wliatever.  The  art  of  numeration  was  learned,  at  least  up  to 
a  hundred ;  there  is  no  general  Indo-European  word  for 
'  thousand.'  Stnne  of  the  ytars  were  noticed  and  named  : 
the  moon  was  the  chief  measurer  of  time.  The  religion  was 
j)(>lytheistic,  a  worship  of  the  personified  powers  of  nature, 
its  rites,  whatever  they  were,  were  practised  without  the  aid 
of  a  priesthood. 

Such,  in  briefest  possible  description,  was  the  simple  people 
from  whom  appear  to  have  descended  those  mightj  nationa 
who  have  now  long  been  the  leaders  of  the  world's  civiliza- 
tion. Of  their  classification,  their  importance  in  history,  and 
the  value  of  their  languages  to  linguistic  science,  we  shall 
treat  further  in  the  next  lecture. 


\' 


^sJL^ 


LECTUEE  TI. 


Languages  and  literatures  of  the  Germanic,  Slavonic,  Lithuanic,  <Je.t]«5, 
Italic,  Greok,  Iranian,  and  Indian  branches  of  Indo-Euro|ifan  ^jteecn. 
Interest  of  the  family  and  its  study  ;  historical  imi)Ortance  of  the  Indo- 
European  races ;  their  languages  the  basis  of  linguistic  science. 
Method  of  linguistic  research.  Comparative  philology.  Errors  of 
linguistic  method  or  its  application. 


Our  consideration  of  the  processes  of  linguistic  growth, 
and  of  their  etfects  upon  the  condition  of  language  and  the 
rise  of  disrordaut  tongues,  was  brought  to  a  close  in  the 
preceding  lecture  witli  a  brief  discussion  of  certain  errone- 
ous views  respecting  original  dialectic  variety,  and  the 
influence  exerted  upon  it  by  literary  and  grammatical  culti- 
vation. We  then  looked  to  see  how  and  how  far  the  princi- 
ples which  we  had  established  could  be  applied  to  explain 
the  seemingly  infinite  confusion  of  tongues  now  prevailing 
upon  the  earth,  and  to  fiicilitate  their  classification  and 
reduction  to  order.  This  led  us  to  a  recognition  of  our  own 
language  as  one  of  a  group  of  nearly  related  dialects,  the 
G-ermanic  group  ;  and,  on  inquiring  farther,  we  found  that 
this  was  itself  a  member  of  a  wider  family,  embracinsf  nearly 
all  the  tongues  of  Europe,  with  a  part  of  those  of  Asia,  and 
divided  into  seven  principal  branches  :  namely,  the  Indian, 
the  Iranian,  the  Grreek,  the  Latin,  the  Grermanic,  the 
Slavonic  (including  the  Lithuanic,  sometimes  reckoned  as  a 
separate  branch),  and  the  Celtic.  We  called  it  the  Indo- 
European  family.  At  some  place  and  time,  which  we  were 
obliged  to  confess  ourselves  unable  to  determine  with  any 

U 


210  MEMBirSS    OF   THE  [lECT 

even  tolerable  degree  of  conTidenee — hut  inore  probablv  in 
Asia,  and  certainly  not  less  than  three  thousand  years  befoie 
Christ — and  in  a  condition  of  civilization  respecting  ^\hien 
the  evidence  of  language  furnished  us  valuable  hints,  some 
single  community  bad  spoken  a,  single  tongue,  from  Avhich 
all  these  others  were  descended,  in  accordance  witb  the 
universal  laws  of  linguistic  tradition,  by  processes  which  are 
still  active  in  every  pa,rt  of  human  speech.  And  now,  waiv- 
ing for  a  while  the  question  whether  it  may  not  be  possible 
to  regard  the  great  Indo-European  family  itself  as  only  a 
member  of  a  yet  vaster  family,  including  all  or  nearly  all  the 
languages  of  the  human  race,  we  have,  in  the  present  lecture, 
to  review  more  in  detail  its  constitution,  to  note  the  period 
and  locality  of  its  constituent  members,  to  glance  at  the  special 
historical  importance  attaching  to  them  and  to  the  peoples 
who  speak  them,  to  set  forth  their  value  as  the  funda- 
mental material  of  linguistic  science,  and  to  examine  anew 
and  more  systematically  the  general  method  of  linguistic 
research,  as  established  upon  their  study. 

We  may  best  commence  our  survey  of  the  varieties  of 
Indo-European  speech  wnth  our  own  branch,  the  Grermanic. 
Its  existing  dialects,  as  has  been  already  pointed  out,  are 
divided  into  three  groups  or  sub-branches  :  1,  the  Low-Ger- 
man, occupying  northern  Germany  and  the  Netherlands, 
with  their  colony  Britain,  and  wath  the  numerous  and 
widely-scattered  modern  colonies  of  Britain ;  2,  the  High- 
German,  in  central  and  southern  Germany  ;  3,  the  Scandina- 
vian, in  Denmark,  Sw^eden,  Norway,  and  Iceland.  Of  the 
Low-German  group,  the  English  is  by  far  the  most  important 
member  ;  its  eventful  history,  illustrated  at  every  step  by 
valuable  literary  documents,  we  trace  back,  through  Middle 
English  (a.d.  1350-1550),  Old  English  (a.d.  1250-1350),  and 
Semi-Saxon  (a.d.  1150-1250),  to  the  Anglo-Saxon,  which 
reaches  into  the  seventh  century  of  our  era,  possessing  an  anti- 
quity exceeded  by  only  one  other  Germanic  dialect.  Its 
earliest  monuments,  in  their  style  and  metre,  and  at  least  one 
of  them,  the  Beowulf,  in  subject  and  substance  also,  carry  us 
back  to  the  pre-Christian  period  of  Germanic  history.  We 
cannot  delay  here  to  enter  into   any  detailed   examination 


n.]  GERMANIC    BRANCH.  211 

of  tlie  cliaracter  and  changes  of  English  speech,  interesting 
and  instructive  as  such  a  task  would  be  ;  save  so  far  as  they 
have  been  and  may  hereafter  be  brought  in  by  way  of  illus- 
tration of  general  linguistic  laws,  they  must  be  left  to  more 
special  treatises.*  • 

Next  of  kin  with  the  x^nglo-Saxon,  or  oldest  form  of  Eng- 
lish, are  the  ancient  Frisian,  of  the  northern  sea-coast  of 
Germany,  which  had,  in  the  fourteenth  century  and  later, 
a  literature  of  its  own,  of  juridical  content,  composed  in 
an  idiom  of  form  little  less  antique  than  Old  High- G-erman, 
notwithstanding  its  comparatively  modern  date  —  and  the 
Old  Saxon,  the  principal  language  of  northern  Germany  be- 
tween the  Rhine  and  the  Elbe,  represented  to  n.s  by  but 
a  single  work,  the  Heliand  or  'Saviour,'  a  poetical  life  of 
Christ,  probably  of  the  ninth  century.  Both  Saxon  and 
Frisian  have  been  almost  wholly  crowded  out  of  cultivated 
use  in  modern  times,  as  was  explained  in  a  former  lecture 
(see  p.  164),  by  the  overpowering  influence  of  the  High 
German,  and  their  domain  has  also  been  encroached  upon  by 
other  dialects  of  the  same  Idndred,  so  that  they  survive 
at  present  only  as  insignificant  popular  j9rtif 0/5.  Nothing  but 
the  political  independence  of  Holland  has  saved  its  peculiar 
speech  from  the  same  fate  :  the  literary  cultivation  of  the 
Netherlandish  or  Dutch  can  be  ti'aced  back  to  the  thirteenth 
century,  although  dating  chiefly  from  the  sixteenth,  the  era 
of  the  country's  terrible  struggle  against  the  political  tyranny 
of  Spain.  The  Flemish,  the  closely  allied  idiom  of  Flanders, 
has  its  own  separate  records,  of  about  the  same  antiquity, 
but  is  now  nearly  extinct. 

The  history  of  High- German  speech  was  succinctly 
sketched  in  connection  with  our  inquiries  into  the  rise  and 
extension  of  literary  dialects.  It  falls  into  three  periods. 
The  first  period  is  ehat  of  the  Old  High- German  (Althoch- 
deutsch),  from  the  eighth  to  the  twelfth  century  ;  its  monu- 
ments are  tolerably  abundant,  but,  with  trifling  exceptions,  of 
Christian  origin  and  religious  content :  they  represent  three 

*  See  the  works  of  ^farsh,  Craik,  and  others  ;  and  especially,  for  a  clear  and 
succinct  view  of  the  history  and  connections  of  English  speech,  with  gram- 
matical analyses  and  illustrative  specimens,  the  work  of  Professor  Hadley. 
already  one?  'eferred  to,  on  p.  84. 

14* 


212  MFMBERS    OF    THE  [lECT. 

principal  sub-dialects,  the  Prankish,  the  Alemamiic  and 
Swabian,  and  the  Bavarian  and  Austrian.  The  second 
period,  that  of  the  Middle  High- German  (Mittclhoclideutsch), 
covers  about  four  centuries,  befj^inning  with  the  twelfth  and 
ending  with  the  fifteenth  ;%  its  ruling  dialect  is  the  Swabian  ; 
and  its  rich  literature  hands  down  to  us  valuable  productions 
of  the  poetical  fancy  of  the  times,  in  the  lyric  verses  of  the 
Minnesingers,  and  precious  memorials  of  ancient  German 
national  tradition,  in  the  heroic  legends  {Ilehlensageii).  The 
foremost  work  of  the  latter  class,  the  Lay  of  the  Nibelungen 
(^Nibelungenlied),  is  one  of  the  noblest  epics  w^hich  any  coun- 
try has  produced,  in  any  age  of  the  world.  Of  the  language 
and  literature  of  the  New  High-German  period,  from  early 
in  the  sixteenth  century  to  our  own  times — the  "  German  " 
language  and  literature,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  call  it — • 
there  is  no  need  that  I  speak  more  particularly. 

The  third  subdivision  of  the  Germanic  branch  is  the 
Scandinavian.  Its  earliest  monuments  come  to  us  from  Ice- 
land, that  lar-ofl'and  inhospitable  island  of  volcanoes,  boiling 
springs,  and  ice-fields,  w^hich,  settled  in  the  ninth  century  by 
refugees  from  Norway,  long  continued  a  free  colony,  a  home 
of  literary  culture  and  legendary  song.  Christianity,  more 
tolerant  there  than  elsewhere  on  Germanic  soil,  did  not  sweep 
from  existence  the  records  of  ancient  religion  and  customs. 
The  two  Eddas,  gathered  or  preserved  to  us  i'rom  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries,  are,  in  virtue  of  their  tone  and 
content,  by  far  the  most  primitive  works  in  the  whole  circle 
of  the  Germanic  literatures,  documents  of  priceless  value  for 
the  antiquity  of  the  Germanic  race.  Their  language  also, 
though  of  so  much  more  recent  date  than  the  oldest  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  High-German,  is  not  exceeded  by  either  in  respect 
to  the  primitiveness  of  its  ])honetic  and  grammatical  form. 
Nor  has  it  greatly  changed  during  the  six  or  seven  centuries 
which  have  elapsed  since  the  compilation  of  the  Eddas.  The 
modern  Icelandic  is  still,  among  all  the  existing  Germanic 
tongues,  the  one  that  h,as  preserved  and  ])osscsses  the  most 
of  that  original  structure  which  once  bek)nged  to  them  all 
alike.  Three  other  dialects,  the  Norw-egian,  the  Swedish, 
and  the  Danisji,  constitute  along  with  it  the  Scandinavian 


VI. J  GKRMANIC    BRANCH.  213 

group,  and  are  languages  of  literary  culture.  Thej  are  not 
direct  descendants  of  the  "  Old  Norse"  tongue,  as  the  ancient 
Icelandic  is  usually  called  :  the  Norwegian  comes  nearest  to 
being  so  ;  the  others  represent  more  ancient  dialectic  divi- 
sions of  Scandinavian  speech. 

How  many  other  Grermanic  branches,  originally  coordinate 
with  the  three  we  have  described,  once  had  existence,  but 
have  become  extinct  in  later  times,  by  the  extinction  of  the 
communities  who  spoke  them,  we  have  not,  nor  shall  we  ever 
have,  any  means  of  knowing.  But  of  one  such,  at  least, 
most  precious  remains  have  escaped  the  general  destruction 
of  the  nationality  to  which  it  belonged.  One  portion  of 
the  western  division  of  the  great  and  famous  Grothic  nation 
crossed  the  lower  Danube,  some  time  in  the  early  part  of  the 
fourth  century,  and  settled  in  the  Roman  province  of  Moesia, 
as  subjects  of  the  empire  and  as  Christians.  For  them, 
their  bishop  and  leader,  Ulfilas_,  later  in  the  same  century, 
made  a  translation  into  their  own  vernacular  of  nearly  the 
whole  Bible,  writing  it  in  an  alphabet  of  his  own  devising, 
founded  on  the  Greek.  Five  hundred  years  afterward,  the 
Gothic  was  everywhere  an  extinct  tongue  ;  but  considerable 
portions  of  the  Gothic  Scriptures — namely,  a  part  of  the 
Gospels,  Paul's  epistles  nearly  complete,  and  fragments  of 
the  Old  Testament — are  happily  still  preserved,  in  a  single 
manuscript  of  the  fifth  century,  nov/  at  Upsala,  in  Sweden. 
Scanty  as  these  relics  may  be,  they  are  of  inestimable  value 
in  illustrating  the  history  of  the  whole  Germanic  branch  of 
Indo-European  language,  and  bridging  over  the  distance 
which  separates  it  from  the  other  branches.  For,  as  in  tim.e, 
so  still  more  notably  in  material  and  structure,  tlieir  idiom 
is  much  the  most  ancient  of  all  the  varied  forms  of  Germanic 
speech  :  it  is  not,  indeed,  the  mother  of  the  rest,  nor  of  any 
among  them  ;  but  it  is  their  eldest  sister,  and  fully  entitled 
to  claim^  the  place  of  head  of  their  family. 

The  Slavonian  branch — to  which,  on  account  of  its  local 
vicinity,  as  well  as  its  probable  nearer  relationship,  to  the 
Germanic,  we  next  turn  our  attention — need  not  occupy  us 
long.  It  is  of  much  less  interest  to  us,  because  of  its  greater 
remoteness  from  our  race  and  from  our  knowledge,  its  inferior 


'2l4t  THE    SLAVONIC    BRANCH.  [lECT. 

historical  importance  and  literary  value,  and  its  more  modem 
appearance.*  The  oldest  of  its  dialects  in  date,  and,  in  nearly 
all  respects,  tlie  most  primitive  in  form,  is  the  language  of 
the  ancient  Bulgarians,  into  which  their  apostle  Cyril  trans- 
lated the  Scriptures,  now  just  about  a  thousand  years  ago. 
It  is  a  curious  coincidence  that  our  knowledge  of  both  Grer- 
manic  and  Slavonic  speech  thus  begins,  like  that  of  many  a 
rude  and  hitherto  unlettered  dialect  in  the  liands  of  mission- 
aries at  the  present  day,  with  a  Bible  version,  and  at  nearly 
the  same  geographical  locality;  the  kingdom  of  the  Bulgarians 
having  followed  that  of  the  Goths  on  the  southern  bank  of 
the  lower  Danube.  But  this  ancient  idiom — from  which  the 
modern  Bulgarian  dilfers  greatly,  having  changed  with 
unusual  rapidity  in  the  interval — is  more  commonly  called  the 
Old  Slavonic,  or  the  Church  Slavic,  having  been  adoptetl  by 
a  large  part  of  the  Slavonian  races  as  their  sacred  language 
and  being  still  employed  as  such,  within  the  ecclesiastical 
limite  of  the  Grreek  Church.  It  belongs  to  what  is  known  a.s 
the  south-eastern  section  of  the  Slavonic  branch.  By  far  the 
most  important  of  the  other  languages  in  the  same  section  is 
the  Kussian,  in  its  two  divisions,  the  Russian  proper  and  the 
Little-Russian,  or  Rutlienian.  The  Russian  is  in  our  day  a 
literary  language  of  considerable  importance  ;  its  forms  are 
traceable,  in  scanty  documents,  back  into  the  eleventh  century. 
In  its  cultivated  development,  it  has  been  strongly  influvnccd 
by  tlie  Cluirch  Slavonic.  The  south-eastern  section  further 
i!)cludes  the  Servian,  with  its  closely  related  dialect,  the 
Kroatian,  and  the  Slovenian  of  Carinthia  and  Styria. 
Specimens  of  tlicse  tongues  are  as  old  as  the  tenth,  or  even 
the  ninth,  century.  The  Servian  has  an  interesting  modern 
literature  of  popular  soi  gs. 

To  the  other  section,  the  western,  belong  the  Polish,  the 
Bohemian  with  the  related  Moravian  and  Slovakian,  the 
upper  and  lower  Sorbian,  and  the  Polabian,  on  the  Elbe.  Of 
these,  the  Bohemian  is  the  oldest,  having  monuments  probably 
of  the  tenth  century.      Polish  literature  begins  in  the  four- 

*  III  skctchinjT  the  relations  of  the  Slavonic  lanjruagcs,  1  follow  the 
authority  of  Professor  August  Schleicher,  in  the  Beitragezur  Ycrgleichcndcc 
S|)iaclilorschunjj,  vol.  i.,  p.  1  acq. 


VI.]  THE    LITHUANIC    GROUP.  215 

teentli  century,  since,  down  to  that  time,  tlie  cultivated  of 
the  nation  had  written  wholly  in  Latin.  The  others  can 
show  nothing  older  than  the  sixteenth  century,  and  are  of 
little  consequence  in  any  aspect. 

The  Lithuanic  or  Lettic  group  of  dialects  is  sometimes 
treated  as  a  subdivision  of  the  Slavonic,  and  sometimes — per- 
haps witli  bettor  reason — as  a  separate  branch,  coordinate 
with  the  other,  although  very  closely  related  to  it.  It  is  of 
very  slight  historical  or  literary  importance  :  its  interest  lies 
chiefly  in  the  fact  that,  under  the  operation  of  causes  in  its 
history  which  are  yet  unexplained  and  probably  unexplain- 
able,  it  has  preserved  many  of  the  original  forms  of  Indo- 
European  speech  in  a  more  uncorrupted  condition  than  any 
other  known  dialect  of  the  whole  family  which  is  not  as  much 
as  two  thousand  years  older.  It  is  composed  of  only  three 
dialects,  one  of  which,  the  Old  Prussian,  the  original  lan- 
guage of  the  inhabitants  of  north-eastern  Prussia,  has  been 
extinct  for  two  hundred  years,  crow^ded  out  of  existence  by 
the  Low-Grerman,  and  leaving  behind,  as  its  only  monument, 
'a  brief  catechism.  The  other  two,  the  Lithuanian  and  the 
Lettish,  or  Livonian,  are  still  spoken  by  a  million  or  two  of 
people  in  the  Russian  and  Prussian  provinces  bordering  on 
the  Baltic,  but  seem  destined  to  give  way  helplessly  before 
the  encroachments  of  the  German  and  Russian,  and  to  share 
one  day  the  fate  of  their  sister-dialect.  The  oldest  Lithu- 
anian document  dates  from  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. The  southern  or  High  Lithuanian  is  of  most  antique 
form  ;  the  Low  Lithuanian,  and  yet  more  notably  the  Lettish 
to  the  north,  show  a  less  remarkable  conservation  of  ancient 
material. 

The  Celtic  languages,  as  was  pointed  out  in  the  last  lec- 
ture, have  been  well-nigh  extinguished  by  the  Eomanic  and 
G-ermanic  tongues,  and  now  only  lurk  in  the  remotest  and 
most  inaccessible  corners  of  the  Avide  territory  which  they 
once  occupied  in  Europe.  The  Scotch  Highlands,  the  wildest 
parts  of  Ireland,  the  Isle  of  Man,  the  mountains  of  Wales, 
the  rough  glens  of  Cornwall,  and  the  land  lying  nearest  to 
Cornwall  across  the  British  Channel,  the  promontory  of 
Brittany,  are  the   only  regions  where,  for  many  centuries 


2U)  MEMBERS    OF   THE  [lECT. 

past,  Celtic  speecli  lias  been  heard.  Tlie  Cornisli,  too,  has 
becumo  extinct  within  the  memory  of  the  present  generation  ; 
the  Irish  is  rapidly  on  its  way  to  the  same  late  ;  the  Graclic 
will  not  survive  the  complete  taming  and  civilization  of  the 
Highlands  ;  the  French  is  likely  to  crowd  out  the  'puiois  of 
the  Breton  peasant ;  and  it  is  greatly  to  be  doubted  whet:ier 
even  the  AVelsh  people,  passionate  as  is  the  attachment  Avith 
which  at  present  they  cling  to  their  peculiar  speech,  will 
continue  alwavs  to  refuse  the  advantaores  that  would  accrue 
to  them  from  its  relinquishment,  and  a  more  thorough  fusion 
with  the  greater  community  of  speakers  of  English  to  w^liich 
they  form  an  adjunct.  There  has  never  been  a  homogeneous, 
independent,  and  cultivated  Celtic  state,  capable  of  protect- 
ing its  idiom  from  the  encroachment  of  other  tongues  ;  and 
only  such  protection,  now  unattainable,  can,  as  it  seems,  save 
Celtic  speech  from  utter  extinction. 

There  is  no  small  difficulty  in  treating  satisfactorily  the 
documents  which  illustrate  the  history  of  the  Celtic  lan- 
guages, owing  to  the  prevalence  of  a  peculiar  and  strongly- 
marked  linguistic  disease,  well  known  among  philologists  as 
"  Celtomania,"  which  has  been  very  apt  to  attack  students  of 
the  subject — especially  such  as  were  of  Celtic  extraction,  but 
in  some  degree  foreigners  also — leading  them  wildly  to  ex- 
aggerate the  antiquity  and  importance  of  the  Celtic  civiliza- 
tion, language,  and  literature.  We  have  had  Celtic  set  up 
as  the  most  primitive  and  uncorrupted  of  tongues,  spoken  by 
generations  long  anterior  to  the  oldest  worthies  whom  h.istory. 
sacred  or  profane,  recognizes,  and  furnishing  the  only  sure 
foundation  to  universal  etymology  ;  we  have  had  ancient  in- 
scriptions and  difficult  texts,  of  the  most  diverse  origin  and 
distant  ftcality^  expiained  out  of  Celtic  into  high-sounding 
phrases,  of  true  Ossianic  ring  ;  we  have  had  the  obscure 
words  of  various  languages  traced  to  Celtic  roots,  provided 
with  genealogies  from  an  Irish  or  AVelsh  ancestor — and  mucli 
more  of  tlie  same  sort.  Sober  and  un])rc^iudiced  inquiry  cuts 
down  these  claims  to  greatly  reduced,  though  still  respect- 
able, dimensions. 

So  completely  were  the  Gaulish  dialects  of  northern  Ifaly, 
Frauce,  and  Spain  wiped  out  by  the  Latin,  so  few  traces  of 


I 


n  J  CELTIC    BRANCH.  217 

tbcm  are  left  to  us,  eillier  in  tlie  later  idioms  of  tlie  Latin  or 
in   fragments   of  writings,  inscriptions,  and  coins,  that   it  is 
still  a  matter  of  doubt  and  question  among  Celtic  scliolars  to 
waich  of  the  known  diviwions  of  Celtic  speech,  the   Gadhelic 
or  the  Cymric,  they  belonged,  or  whether  thej  did  not   con- 
stitute a  tliird  division,  coordinate  with  these.      Aside  from 
the    exceedingly    scanty    and    obscure     Gallic     epigraphical 
monuments,  and  the  few  single  words  preserved  in  classic 
authors,  the  earliest  records,  both  of  Irish  and  Welsh  speech, 
are  glosses,  or  interlinear  and  marginal  versions   and    com- 
ments, written  by  CeltJc   scholars   upon   manuscripts  which 
they  were  studying,  in  old  times  when  Wales  and  Ireland, 
especially  the  latter,  were   centres  of  a   lively  literary  and 
Christian  activity.    Of  these  glosses,  the  Irish  are  by  far  the 
most  abundant,  and  afford  a  tolerably  distinct  idea  of  what 
the  language  was  at  about  the  end  of  the  eighth  century. 
There  is  also  an  independent  literary  work,  a  life  of  Saint 
Patrick,  which  is  supposed  to  belong  to  the  beginning  of  the 
ninth   century.     The   other  principal   Gadhelic  dialect,  the 
Scotch  Gaelic,  presents  us  a  few  songs  that  claim  to  be  of  the 
sixteenth  century.     The  Ossianic  poems,  which  excited  such 
attention  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  whose  genuineness  and 
value  have  been  the  subject  of  so  lively  discussion,  are  prob- 
ably  built  upon  only  a  narrow  foundation   of  real   Gaelic 
tradition. 

In  the  Cymric  division,  the  "Welsh  glosses,  just  referred 
to,  are  the  oldest  monuments  of  definite  date.  Though 
hardly,  if  at  all,  less  ancient  than  the  Irish,  coming  down 
from  somewhere  betw^een  the  eighth  and  the  tenth  centuries, 
they  are  very  much  more  scanty  in  amount,  hardly  sufficient 
to  do  more  than  disprove  the  supposed  aniiquity^c^i'  the 
earliest  monuments  of  the  language  that  possess  a  proper 
literary  character.  For  long  centuries  past,  the  AYelsh  bards 
have  sung  in  spirit-stirring  strains  the  glories  and  the  woes 
of  their  race  ;  and  it  is  claimed  that  during  much  more  thiin 
a  thousand  years,  or  ever  since  the  sixth  century,  the  era  of 
Saxon  invasion  and  conquest,  some  of  their  songs  have  been 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  by  a  careful 
and  uninterrupted  tradition.  And  the  claim  is  probably  well 


218  MEMBERS    OF    THE  '  [lECT. 

founded  :  only  it  is  also  pretty  certain  ttat,  as  thoy  have 
been  handed  dowTi,  they  have  been  modernized  in  diction, 
80  that,  in  their  present  form,  they  repret;ent  to  us  the 
"Welsh  language  of  a  time  not  much  preceding  the  date  of 
the  oldest  manuscripts,  or  of  the  twelfth  to  the  fourteenth 
centuries.  The  later  Welsh  literature,  as  -^ell  as  the  Irish, 
is  abundant  in  quantity.  The  Cornish,  also,  has  a  tolerably 
copious  literature  of  not  far  from  the  same  age  ;  its  earliest 
monument,  a  Latin-Cornish  vocabulai-y,  may  be  as  old  as  the 
twelfth  century.  The  language  of  Brittany,  the  Armorican 
— ^AA^hich  is  so  closely  allied  with  the  two  last-mentioned  that 
it  cannot  well  be  regarded  as  a  remnant  and  representative 
of  the  Celtic  dialects  of  Gaul,  but  must  rather  belong  to 
colonists  or  fugitives  from  Britain — is  recorded  in  one  or 
two  brief  works  going  back  to  the  fourteenth  century,  or 
even  farther. 

We  come  next  to  the  Eomanic  brauch,  as  we  have  called 
it  when  briefly  noticing  its  history  at  an  earlier  point  in  our 
discussions.  Of  the  languages  which  compose  it,  and  w^hose 
separate  currents  of  linguistic  tradition  we  trace  backward 
until  they  converge  and  meet  in  the  Latin,  two,  the  Kha^to- 
Homanic  in  southern  Switzerland  and  at  the  head  of  the 
Adriatic,  and  the  Wallachian  of  the  northern  provinces  of 
Turkey,  have  no  literature  of  any  antiquity  or  independent 
value.  The  other  five — the  Italian,  French,  Provcn9al, 
Spanish,  and  Portuguese — all  emeri^ed  out  of  the  condition 
of  vulgar  i^aiois,  and  began  to  take  on  the  character  of 
national  cultivated  languages,  at  not  far  from  the  same  time, 
or  in  the  eleventh,  twelfth,  and  thirteenth  centuries.  There 
are  fragments  of  Ercnch  texts  dating  from  the  tenth  century, 
but  the  early  French  literature,  abundant  and  various,  and, 
in  its  romances,  attaining  a  wonderfully  sudden  and  general 
popularity  throughout  cultivated  Europe,  belongs  to  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries.  The  Proven9al  poetry, 
consisting  of  the  songs  of  the  troubadours,  whose  chief 
activity  was  displayed  at  the  court  of  Toulouse,  in  southern- 
most France,  was  wholly  lyrical  in  fonn,  and  amatory  or 
satirical  in  content :  it  finislied  its  brilliant  but  brief  career, 
of  about  thi'ee  hundred  years,  in  the  fourteenth  century.    Th© 


VI.]  ROMANIC    OR    ITALIC    EPvAXCH.  219 

culture  of  Italian  begins  at  the  court  of  Prederic  II.,  about 
A.D.  1200,  and  within  a  century  and  a  half  of  that  time  lived, 
sang,  and  narrated  the  three  greatest  writers  of  Italy — Dante 
(ob.  1321),  Petrarch  (ob.  1374.),  and  Boccaccio  (ob.  1375). 
The  Spanish  heroic  legend  commences  in  the  twelfth  century  ; 
and  there  are  mionuments  of  Portuguese  speech  of  about 
the  same  time.  Among  these  languages,  the  French  is  that 
which  ha;S  undergone  most  change  during  the  historical 
period;- the  oldest  French  and  Proven9al  form  a  kind  of 
middle  term  between  the  modern  language  and  the  ancient 
Latin,  illustrating  the  transition  from  the  latter  to  the 
former. 

But  if  we  have  called  the  branch  of  Indo-European  speech 
to  which  these  tongues  belong  the  Romanic,  we  have  done  so 
out  of  regard  to  its  later  history  and  present  constitution, 
and  not  altogether  properly.  To  the  student  of  Indo- 
European  philology,  these  are  the  recent  branchings  of  a 
single  known  stock,  the  Latin ;  to  trace  their  development 
is  a  task  of  the  highest  interest,  a  whole  linguistic  school  in 
itself;  they  furnish  rich  and  abundant  illustration  of  all  the 
processes  of  linguistic  growth :  but,  as  regards  any  direct 
bearing  upon  the  history  of  Indo-European  speech,  they  have 
value  only  through  the  Latin,  their  common  parent.  The 
remoter  relations  of  the  Latin  itself  receive  light  from  various 
sources.  In  its  familiar  classic  form,  it  represents  to  us  the 
sneech  of  the  learned  and  educated  Eomans  of  a  century  or 

J-  ^ 

t'.vo  before  the  Christian  era  ;  it  is  somewhat  refined  by 
literary  culture  from  the  diction  of  the  oldest  authors  whose 
works  have  come  down  to  us,  in  fragments  or  entire — as 
Livius  Andronicus,  Plautus,  Terence — and  is  far  more  notably 
chanored  from  the  lan^fua^e  of  earlier  i?oman  times — as  is 
shown  by  the  yet  extant  monuments,  like  the  inscription  on 
the  Duilian  column  (about  B.C.  260),  that  on  the  sarcophagus 
of  a  founder  of  the  Si-ipio  family  (a  little  older  than  the  last 
mentioned),  and  especially  the  Salian  hymn  and  song  of  the 
fratres  arvales,  of  yet  earlier  but  uncertain  date,  in  which 
the  best  Latin  scholar  would  find  himself  wholly  at  fault 
without  the  traditional  interpretation  which  is  handed  do\vn 
along  with  them :    in  these  monuments  is  preserved  to  U3 


220      ^  THE    ITALIC    BRANCH.  [lECT. 

many  an  antique  form,  giving  valuable  hints  respecting  tlie 
grammatical    and   plionetic    development   of   the  language. 
Their  evidence  is  supplemented  in  a  very  important  manner 
by  that  of  other  kindred  Italian  dialects.     The   Oscan   or 
Opicau  of  southern  Italy  was  the  language  of  the  Samuites 
and  their   allies,   from   whose   hands   Eome   wrung   after  a 
Bevere  and  often  doubtful  struggle  the  dominion  of  the  pen- 
insula :  it  was  not  disused  as  the  official  speech  of  some  of 
the  southern  provinces  until  less  than  a  hundred  years  before 
Christ ;  and  coins  and  inscriptions  dating  from  the  two  or 
three   preceding   centuries   still   teach  us   something   of  its 
structure    and    character.       The    Umbrian,    the    tongue    of 
north-eastern  Italy,  is  yet  more  fully  represented  to  us  by 
the  Euguvine  tablets,  inscribed  with  the  prayers  and  cere- 
monial rules  of  a  fraternity  of  priests,  and  supposed  to  be  as 
old  as  the  third  and  fourth  centuries  before  our  era.     Of  the 
Volscian    dialect,   also,   and    the    Sabine   or   Sabellian — the 
former  beiug  more  akin  with  the  Umbrian,  the  latter  with 
the  Latin — some  exceedingly  scanty  relics  have  been  dis- 
covered.     The  interpretation  and  comprehension  of  all  these 
— resting,  as  it  does,  solely  upon  comparison  with  the  Latin 
and  other  more  distantly  related  tongues — is  at  present,  and 
is  likely  always   to   remain,  incomplete  and  doubtful ;  but 
they  are  of  essential  importance,  both  in  explaining  some  of 
the  peculiarities  of  the  Latin,  and  in  fixing  its  position  as 
one  of  a  group  of  kindred   dialects  occupying  the   greater 
portion  of  the  Italian  peninsula,  and  hence  most  suitably  to 
be  denominated  the  Italic  group.     The  theory  that  the  Latin 
was  produced  by  a  mixture  of  somewhat  discordant  elements 
— of  lioman,  Sabine,  and  Oscan  ;    or  of  these  and  Etruscan 
■ — brought  together  by  historical  circumstances,  and  finally 
fused   into   homogeneousness,  is   one   which  belonginl  to   a 
former  stage  of  linguistic   science,  and  is  now  rejected  as 
uncalled-for    and    groundless.       Yet    more    untenable,    and 
wanting  even  a  semblance  of  foundation,  is  the  derivation  of 
Latin  from  Greek,  a  f.ivonrite  dogma  of  times  not  lon<j^  past 
l)ut  at  present  abandoned   hy  every  comparative  philologist 
whose  opinion  is  of  the  slightest  value. 

In   t!ie    Greek    language,   we  reach  an  antiquity   in   the 


VI.]  THE    GREEK    BRANCH.  •     22J 

recorded  tistory  of  Indo-European  speecTi  considerably  tigher 
than  we  Lave  any  where  else  attained.  The  exact  date;  of  its 
earliest  monuments,  the  grand  and  unrivalled  poems  of 
Homer,  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  de- 
termined ;  but  they  go  back,  doubtless,  to  near  the  beginning 
of  the  thousand  years  before  Christ's  birth.  From  the 
diflerent  parts  of  Greece,  too,  as  of  Italy,  we  have  received 
records  of  dialects  that  subsisted  side  by  side  through  all  the 
earlier  periods  of  the  country's  history,  until  at  length  (about 
B.C.  300)  the  political  importance  and  superior  literature  of 
Athens  made  her  idiom,  the  later  Attic,  the  common  lan- 
guage of  cultivated  G-reeks  everywhere.  The  earlier 
Attic  is  found  first  in  the  writings  of  the  great  dramatists, 
beginning  about  five  centuries  before  Christ  :  it  is  more 
nearly  akin  with  the  earlier  Ionic  of  Homer  and  Hesiod  (be- 
fore 700  B.C.),  and  the  later  Ionic  of  Herodotus  (about  400 
B.C.),  than  with  the  Doric  of  Alcman,  Pindar,  and  Theocritus 
(GOO-250  B.C.),  or  the  iEolic  of  Alcseus  and  Sappho  (about 
600  B.C.).  The  difierences  of  the  Greek  dialects  are  quite 
insignificant  as  compared  with  those  of  the  Italic,  yet  they 
are  of  no  small  service  to  the  historical  student  of  the  Greek 
language,  since  each  brings  to  his  knowledge  some  elements 
less  corrupted  and  modernized  than  are  to  be  found  in  the 
otiiers,  or  in  the  later  common  tongue. 

The  modern  G-reek  has  also  its  dialects,  respecting  which 
little  is  known  in  detail ;  and  it  has,  besides,  its  common 
tongue,  the  liomaic  (as  it  is  ordinarily  stj'led),  spoken  and 
written  by  all  the  educated  Greeks  of  the  present  day.  This 
Romaic  is  very  much  less  altered  from  the  ancient  classic 
language,  as  spoken  by  Plato  and  Demosthenes,  than  are  the 
modern  Romanic  languages  from  the  speech  of  Virgil  and 
Cicero.  The  difference  of  the  two  is  even  so  slight  that 
a  party  in  Greece  are  now  engaged  in  making  the  someAvhat 
pedantic  and  Utopian  effort  to  eliminate  it  altogether,  to 
make  the  turbulent  population  of  the  present  petty  and  in- 
significant kingdom  talk  and  write  as  did  their  heroic  forC' 
fathers,  when,  though  feeble  in  numbers,  they  were  tlie  fore- 
most community  of  the  world.  Small  result  is  to  be  looked 
for  from  this  experiment ;  should  it  prove  successful,  it  will 


222     .  MEMBERS    OF    THE  [lECT. 

be  the  first  time  tliat  such  a  thing  has  been  accomplished  in 
all  -^he  history  of  language. 

Of  tlie  Asiatic  branches  of  our  family,  the  one  which  lies 
nearest  us,  the  Iranian,  or  Per^iian,  may  first  engage  our  atten- 
tion. Its  oldest  monuments  of  well-determined  date  are  the 
inscri];tions — cut  on  the  surface  of  im.mense  walls  of  liviiig 
rock,  in  the  so-called  cuneiibrm  characters — by  which  the 
A.cha?menidan  sovereigns  of  Persia,  Darius,  Xerxes,  and  their 
successors,  made  imperishable  record  for  posterity  of  their 
names  and  deeds.  Pifty  years  ago,  these  inscriptions  were 
an  unsolved  and  apparently  insoluble  enigma  ;  now,  by  a 
miracle  of  human  ingenuity  and  patience,  not  witliout  the 
aid  of  a  combination  of  favouring  circumstances  wholly  im- 
possible at  any  earlier  period,  almost  every  word  and  every 
character  is  fully  laid  open  to  our  comprehension,  and  they 
have  been  made  to  yield  results  of  great  value  both  to 
linguistic  and  to  national  history.  The  oldest  of  them  come 
from  a  time  about  five  centuries  before  Christ,  and  their  ex- 
tent is  sufficient  to  give  us  a  very  distinct  idea  of  the  lan- 
guage of  those  Persians  against  whom  the  Greeks  so  long 
fought,  first  for  indcjjendcnce,  then  for  empire. 

Of  about  the  same  age,  and  even,  probably,  in  part  con- 
siderably older,  are  the  sacred  JScriptures  of  the  religion 
estiiblishcd  by  Zoroaster  (in  his  own  tongue,  Zaraflnistra)  — 
the  book  called  the  Avesta,  or  Zend-Avesta.  The  dialect  in 
which  these  writings  are  composed  goes  'usually  by  the  name 
of  the  Z(>nd  ;  it  is  also  styled  the  Avestan,  and  sometimes 
the  Old  Bactrian,  from  the  country  Bactria,  tlic  north-eastern- 
most  region  of  the  great  Iranian  territory,  which  is  sUj)]iosed 
to  have  been  its  specific  locality.  They  have  been  preserved 
to  us  b}'  the  Parsis  of  western  India,  who  fled  thither  fro'ii 
their  native  country  after  its  reduction  under  Mohammedan 
vassalage  in  the  seventli  century  of  our  era,  and  who  hr.ve 
ever  since  faithfully  maintained,  under  Hindu  and  British 
protection,  the  rites  of  the  IMagian  faith,  tlie  pure  worshij) 
of  Ormuzd  (Ahum-Mazda,  *  the  mighty  spirit ')  through  the 
symbol  of  fire.  The  Avesta  shows  two  dialects,  a  younger 
and  an  older;  some  of  its  hymns  and  pi-ayers  possibly  go 
back  to  the  time  of  Zoroaster  himself — whatever  that  may 


VI.]  IRANIAN    BRANCH.  223 

liave  been :  it  was  doubtless  more  than  a  tbousand  year?,  at 
least,  before  Christ — but  tlie  bulk  oftheworkis  considerably 
later.  Accompanying  the  Avesta  is  a  version  of  it,  made  for 
the  use  of  the  priests,  iti  another  and  much  more  modern 
Iranian  dialect,  the  Pehlevi  or  Huzvaresh,  supposed  to  havo 
been  the  literary  language  of  the  westernmost  provinces  of 
Iran  at  a  period  some  centuries  later  than  the  Christian  era, 
and  much  mixed  with  materials  derived  from  the  Semitic 
tongues  lying  next  westward,  across  the  border,  A  few  in- 
scriptions and  legends  of  coins,  of  the  early  Sassanian 
monarchs  (after  a.d.  226),  furnish  further  specimens  of  the 
same  or  a  nearly  kindred  dialect. 

The  general  body  of  religious  literature  belonging  to  the 
Parsis  of  India  contains  tolerably  copious  documents  of  a 
somewhat  younger  and  much  purer  Iranian  dialect,  usually 
styled  the  Pai'si  (sometimes  also  the  Pazend).  It  comes, 
Avithout  much  question,  from  a  more  eastern  locahty  than 
the  Pehlevi,  and  from  a  time  nearly  approaching  that  of  the 
Mohammedan  conquest.  Pinally,  after  the  conquest,  and 
when  Persia  was  thoroughly  made  over  into  a  province  of 
the  Moslem  empire,  arises,  in  the  tenth  century,  the  modern 
Persian,  and  becomes  duricg  several  centuries,  and  even  to 
our  own  day,  the  vehicle  of  an  abundant  and  admirable 
literature,  rich  in  every  department,  in  poetry,  fiction,  history, 
philosophy,  science.  Its  first  great  work,  and  almost  or 
quite  the  greatest  it  has  to  oiler  us,  is  the  Shah-Nameh, 
'Book  of  Kings,'  of  Pirdusi  (ob.  1020),  a  true  national  epic, 
grand  in  extent,  noble  in  style,  varied  in  contents,  in  which 
is  summed  up  and  related  at  length  the  history  of  the  land, 
traditional,  legendary,  and  mythological,  as  it  lay  in  the 
minds  of  the  generation  by  whom  was  revived  the  ancient 
independence  and  glory  of  the  Persian  nationality.  Por  the 
impoverishment  of  its  grammar  by  the  loss  of  ancient  forms, 
the  modern  Persian  is  almost  couiparable  '\\atli  the  English. 
It  is  more  nearly  related  to  the  language  of  the  Achteme- 
nidan  inscriptions  than  to  that  of  the  Avesta,  al chough  not 
the  lineal  descendant  and  representative  of  either.  In  its 
later  literary  use,  it  is  greatly  disfigured  by  the  unlimited 
introduction  of  words  from  the- Arabic  vocabulary. 


22i  ixEMBEIlS    OF    THE  [lECT. 

There  are  several  other  laiiguajj^es,  in  regions  torderiiig  on 
or  iijcl  tided,  within  the  Iranian  territory,  which  stand  in  such 
relations  with  those  we  have  been  describing  as  to  be  ranked 
in  the  same  class,  altliough  their  Iranian  attributes  are 
greatly  obscured  by  the  changes  which  have  passed  upon 
them  since  their  separation  from  the  principal  stock.  By 
far  the  most  important  of  these  is  the  Armenian,  with  an 
abundant  literature  going  back  to  tlie  fifth  century,  the  era 
of  the  Christianization  of  the  Armenian  people.  Others  are 
the  Ossetie,  in  the  Caucasus  ;  the  Kurdish,  the  dialect  of  the 
wild  mountaineers  of  the  border  lands  between  Persia,  Turkey, 
and  Eussia ;  and  the  Afghan  or  Pushto,  which  in  very  recent 
times  has  enjoyed  a  certain  degi-ee  of  literary  cultivation. 

AVe  come,  finally,  to  that  member  of  our  family  which  has 
lived  its  life  within  the  borders  of  India.  jN'ot  all  the  nu- 
merous dialects  which  fill  this  immense  peninsula,  between 
the  impassable  wall  of  the  Himalayas  and  the  Indian  ocean, 
own  kindred  with  the  Indo-European  tongues,  but  only  those 
of  its  northern  portion,  of  Hindustan  proper,  ranging  from 
the  Indus  to  the  mouths  of  the  Granges,  together  with  a 
certain  extent  of  the  sea-coast  and  its  neighbourhood  stretch- 
ing southward  on  either  side.  The  central  mountainous 
region  and  the  table-lands  of  the  Dekhan  yet  belong  to  the 
aboriginal  tribes,  who  in  the  north  were  crowded  out  or 
subjugated,  at  a  period  lying  only  just  beyond  the  ken  of 
recorded  history,  by  the  Indo-European  races,  as  they  in- 
truded themselves  through  the  avenue,  the  passes  on  the 
north-western  frontier,  by  which  the  conquerors  of  India, 
have  in  all  ages  found  entrance.  The  principal  modern 
dialects  of  our  kindred  are  the  Hindi,  Bengali,  and  Mahratta, 
each  with  various  subdivisions,  and  each  with  a  literature  oi 
its  own,  running  back  only  a  few  centuries.  The  Hindustani, 
or  Urdu,  is  a  form  of  the  Hindi  which  grew  up  in  the  camps 
{urdil)  of  the  Mohammedan  conquerors  of  India,  since  the 
eleventh  century,  as  medium  of  communication  between  them 
and  the  subject  population  of  central  Hindustan,  moie 
corrupted  in  form,  and  filled  with  Persian  and  Arabic  words 
—being  thus,  as  it  were,  the  English  of  India  :  it  has  enjoyed 
more  literary  cultivation  than  any  other  of  the  recent  dialectsi 


VI.]  mCIAN    BRANCH.  225 

and  Is  tlie  lingua  franca,  the  official  language  and  means  of 
genoral  intercourse,  tlirougliout  nearly  the  whole  peninsula. 
The  tongue  of  the  roving  Grypyies  all  over  Europe,  though 
everywhere  strongly  tinged  with  the  local  idiom  of  the  region 
of  their  wanderings,  is  in  its  main  structure  and  material  a 
modern  Hindu  patois  :  the  Grypsies  are  exiles  from  India. 

Next  older  than  the  languaires  we  have  mentioned  are  the 
Prakrit  and  the  Pali,  represented  by  a  literature  and  inscrip- 
tions which  come  to  us  in  part  from  before  the  Christian  era. 
The  Pali  is  the  sacred  language  of  the  Buddhist  religion  in 
the  countries  lying  eastward  and  south-eastw^ard  from  India. 
The  Prakrit  dialects  are  chiefly  preserved  in  the  Sanskrit 
dramas,  where  the  unlearned  characters,  the  women,  servants, 
and  the  like,  talk  Prakrit — just  as,  in  a  modern  German 
theatre,  one  may  hear  the  lower  personages  talk  the  dialects 
of  their  own  districts,  while  the  higher  employ  the  literary 
German,  the  common  speech  of  the  educated  throughout  the 
country.     -^ 

The  virtual  mother  of  all  these  dialects  is  the  Saiiskrit. 
For  the  last  twenty-five  centuries,  at  least,  the  Sanskrit  has 
been  no  longer  a  proper  vernacular  language,  but  kept  arti- 
ficially in  life,  as  the  sacred  dialect  of  Brahmanism  and  the 
cultivated  tongue  of  literature  and  learning  ;  thus  occupying 
a  position  closely  analogous  with  that  held  by  the  Latin 
since  the  decline  of  the  western  empire,  as  the  language  of 
Eoman  Catholicism,  and  the  means  of  communication  among 
the  learned  of  all  Europe.  It  is  still  taught  in  the  schools 
of  the  Brahmanic  priesthood,  used  in  the  ceremonies  of  their 
religion,  and  spoken  and  written  by  their  foremost  scholars 
— although,  like  the  Latin  in  more  recent  times,  much 
shaken  in  its  sway  by  the  uprise  of  the  modern  cultivated 
dialects,  and  the  decadence  of  the  religion  with  whose  uses  it 
is  identified.  AVe  possess  it  in  two  somewhat  varying  forms, 
the  classical  Sanskrit,  and  the  older  idiom  of  the  so-called 
Vedas,  the  Bible  of  the  Hindu  faith.  The  former  is  more 
altered,  by  elaborate  and  long-continued  literary  and  gram- 
matical training,  from  the  condition  of  a  true  vernacular,  than 
is  almost  any  other  known  literary  language.  Partly  for 
this  reason,  and  partly  because,  at  the  time  of  its  establish* 

15 


22 o  THE    SANSKRIT    LANGUAGE.  [LECT. 

ment  and  fixation  as  tte  learned  tongue  of  all  Aryan  India, 
it  must  Lave  been  one  among  a  number  of  gome  what  dilVer- 
ing  local  varieties  of  Aryan  speech,  wliose  differences  form  a 
part  of  the  discordance  of  the  later  dialects,  I  have  called  it 
above  rather  their  virtual  than  their  actual  progenitor  :  it 
represents  very  closely  the  primitive  stock  out  of  which  they 
have  all  grown,  by  varying  internal  development,  and  by 
varying  influence  and  admixture  of  foreign  tongues.  When 
and  where  it  was  at  first  a  spoken  dialect,  is  out  of  our 
power  to  determine ;  but  it  cannot  well  be  regarded  as  of 
less  age  than  the  earliest  Grreek  records  ;  and  it  is  probably 
older  by  centuries.  It  possesses  a  most  abundant  literature,- 
in  nearly  every  department  save,  kistory  ;  its  religious  and 
ethical  poetry,  its  epics,  its  lyric  flights,  its  dramas,  its  sys- 
tems of  philosophy  and  grammar,  have  been  found  worthy  of 
high  admiration  and  of  profound  study  by  Western  scV.olars ; 
they  have  even  been  ranked  by  some,  though  very  unjustly, 
as  superior  to  the  masterpieces  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
literatures.  To  fix  the  chronology  of  its  separate  works  is  a 
task  of  the  extremest  difiiculty  ;  but  some  of  them,  even  iu 
their  present  form,  and  the  substance  of  many  others,  cer- 
tainly come  from  a  time  considerably  anterior  to  the  Chris- 
tian era. 

The  Vedie  dialect  is  yet  more  ancient ;  the  earliest  por- 
tions of  the  oldest  collection,  theKig-Veda(' Veda  of  hymns'), 
must,  it  is  believed,  date  from  nearly  or  quite  two  thousand 
years  before  Christ.  The  considerations  from  w^hich  this  age 
is  deduced  for  them  are  of  a  general  and  inexact  character, 
yet  tolerably  clear  in  their  indications.  Thus,  for  example, 
the  hymns  of  the  Vedas  were  chiefly  composed  on  the  banks 
of  the  Indus  and  its  tributaries,  when  the  great  valley  of  the 
Ganges  was  as  yet  unknown  to  the  Aryan  immigrants  ;  and 
they  ])resent  the  elephant  as  still  a  won;lered-at  aiul  little- 
known  animal  :  while  the  earliest  tidings  of  India  which  we 
have  from  without  show  us  great  kingdoms  on  the  Ganges, 
and  the  elephant  reduced  to  the  service  of  man,  both  in  war 
and  in  peace.  Buddhism,  too,  which  is  well  known  to  have 
pi-eccded  by  several  centuries  t!ie  birth  of  Christ,  was  a  re- 
\olt   against    the  oppressive    domination    of    the   Brahmauic 


VI.]  THE    SANSKRIT    LANGUAGE.  227 

hierarchy ;  and  in  the  Yedas  are  to  be  seen  only  the  germa 
of  Brahmanism,  not  yet  developed  :  no  hierarchy,  no  system 
of  castes,  no  vestige  of  the  doctrine  of  transmigration.  The 
conclusions  drawn  from  a  study  of  the  internal  history  and 
connection  of  the  different  classes  of  works  composing  tlip 
sacred  literature  of  India — which  follow  one  another,  in  a 
close  succession  of  expositions,  rules,  and  comments,  from  a 
time  not  much  later  than  that  of  the  more  recent  hymns 
down  to  the  historical  period — point  also  to  the  same  age. 
The  Yedas  are  thus  by  not  less  than  a  thousand  years  the 
earliest  documents  for  the  history  of  Indo-European  lan- 
guage— for  the  history,  moreover,  of  Indo-European  condi- 
tions and  institutions.  The  civil  constitution,  the  religious 
rites,  the  mythologic  fancies,  the  manners  and  customs, 
which  they  depict,  have  a  peculiarly  original  and  primitive 
aspect,  seeming  to  exhibit  a  far  nearer  likeness  to  w^hat  once 
belonged  to  the  whole  Indo-European  family  than  is  any- 
where else  to  be  attained.  The  Vedas  appear  rather  like  an 
Indo-European  than  an  Indian  record ;  they  are  the  pro- 
perty rather  of  the  whole  family  than  of  a  single  branch. 

Much  of  the  same  character  appertains  to  the  classical 
Sanskrit :  it  is  both  earlier  in  chronologic  period  and  more 
primitive  in  internal  character  than  any  other  language  of 
the  whole  great  family.  Its  pecuKar  value  lies  in  its  special 
conservation  of  primitive  material  and  forms,  in  the  transpar- 
ency of  its  structure,  in  its  degree  of  freedom  from  the  cor- 
rupting and  disguising  effects  of  phonetic  change,  from 
obliteration  of  original  meaning  and  application.  AYe  must 
beware  of  supposing  that  at  all  points,  in  every  item  of 
structure,  it  is  the  superior  of  the  other  Indo-European 
tongues,  or  that  it  constitutes  an  infallible  norm  by  which 
their  material  is  to  be  judged  ;  on  the  contrary,  each  of  the 
other  branches  here  and  there  excels  it,  offering  some  re- 
mains of  early  Indo-European  speech  which  it  has  lost ;  but 
to  it  must  be  freely  conceded  the  merit  of  having  retained, 
out  of  the  common  stock,  more  than  any  one  among  them, 
almost  more  than  they  all.  Exaggerated  and  unfounded 
claims  are  often  put  forward  in  its  behalf  by  those  who  do 
not    fully    understand    the    true   sources  of   its  value :  its 


223  THE  SANSKBIT  LANGUAGE.  [LECT. 

alphabet,    thougli    rich   and    very    harmoniously   developed, 
does  not  cover   more  than  about  two-thirds  of  our  English 
system  of  spoken  sounds  ;  as  an  instrument  of  the  expression 
of  thought  it  has  very  serious  and  conspicuous  defects,  being 
inferior — especially  in  its  handling  of  the  verb  (the  soul  of 
the  sentence),  in  a  loose  and  bald  syntactical  arrangement, 
and  in  an    excessive  use  of    compounds — not  only   to  the 
Grreek,  but  to  almost  every  other  cultivated  Indo-European 
tongue  ;  nor  (as  has  been  already  hinted)  can  its  literature 
sustain  a  moment's  comparison  with   those  of  the   classical 
languages.     It  is  to  be  prized  chiefly  as  a  historical  docu- 
ment, casting  inestimable  light   upon    the   earliest  develop- 
ment of  the  common  speech  of  the  Indo-European  fiimily, 
and  the  relations  of  its  members.      Had  all  its  literature  be- 
sides perished,  leaving  us  only  a  grammar  of  its  forms  and  a 
dictionary  of  its  material,  it  would  still  in  a  great  measure 
retain  this  character;  were  but  a  fragment  of  one  of  its  texts 
saved,  as  has  been  the  case  with  the  Mceso- Grot  hie,  it  would 
still  vindicate  its  right  to  a  place  at  the  head  of  all  the  lan- 
guages of  the  family.      It  may  easily  be  appreciated,  then, 
what  an  impulse  to  the  historical  study  of  language,  then 
just   struggling   into   existence   by   the   comparison   of   the 
tongues  of  Europe,  was  given  by  the  discovery  and  investiga- 
tion of  this  new  dialect,  having  a  structure  that  so  invited 
and  facilitated  historic  analysis,  and  even  presented  by  the 
native  grammatical   science  in  an  analyzed  condition,  with 
roots,  themes,  and  aflixes  carefully  separated,  distinctly  cata- 
logued, and  defined  in  meaning  and  office.    In  all  researches 
into  the  beginnings  of  Indo-European  speech,  the  genesis  of 
roots  and  forms,  its  assistance  is  indispensable,  and  its  au- 
thority of  greatest  weight.      It  often  has  been  and  still  is 
wrongly  estimated    and  misapplied    by  incautious   or  ill-in- 
structed investigators  ;  it  is  sometimes  treated  as  if  it  were 
the  mother  of  the  Indo-European  dialects,  as  the  Latin  of  the 
modern  Romanic  tongues,  instead  of  merely  their  eldest  sister, 
like  the  Moeso-Gothic  among  the  G-ermanic  languages  ;  it  ia 
unduly  brought  in  to  aid  the  inter-comparison  of  dialects  of 
a  single  branch,  and   its  peculiar   develo})menta,  its  special 
laws  of  euphony  or  construction,  are  sought  to  be  forced  upon 


VI.]     IMPORTANCE  OF  INDO-EUROPEAN  LANGUAGE.      229 

tliem  ;  the  facts  it  presents  are  erroiicously  accepted  a  J  ulti- 
mate, cutting  off  further  inquiry  ;  portions  of  its  existing 
material  which  are  of  modern  growth,  or  the  artificial  pro- 
ductions of  Hindu  scholasticism,  are  perversely  used  a3 
of  avail  for  Indo-European  etymolori;y :  and  such  abuse  has 
naturally  provo^i;ed  from  some  scholars  a  distrust  of  ita 
genuine  claims  to  regard  :  but,  stripping  off  all  exaggerations, 
and  making  all  due  allowances,  the  Sanskrit  is  still  the  main- 
stay  of  Indo-European  philology  ;  it  gave  the  science  a  rapid 
development  which  nothing  else  could  have  given  ;  it  im- 
parted to  its  conclusions  a  fulness  and  certainty  which  would 
have  been  otherwise  unattainable. 

Such  is  the  constitution  of  the  grand  division  of  human 
speech  to  which  our  own  language  belongs.  That  its  limita 
have  been  everywhere  traced  with  entir"  exactness  cannot, 
of  course,  be  claimed  ;  other  existing  dialects  may  yet  make 
good  their  claim  to  be  included  in  it — and  it  is  beyond  all 
reasonable  question  that,  as  many  of  its  sub-branches  have 
perished  without  leaving  a  record,  so  various  of  its  branches, 
fully  coordinate  with  those  w^e  have  reviewed,  must  have 
met  a  like  fate.  We  may  now  proceed  to  glance  briefly  at 
some  of  the  grounds  of  the  preeminent  importance  with  whicli 
it  is  invested. 

One  source  of  the  special  interest  which  we  feel  in  the 
study  of  Indo-European  language  lies  in  the  fact  that  our 
own  tongue  is  one  of  its  branches.  In  the  moral  and  intel- 
lectual world,  not  less  than  in  the  physical,  everything  cannot 
but  appear  larger  in  our  eyes  according  as  it  is  nearer  to  us. 
This  would  be  a  valid  consideration  Avith  any  race  upon 
earth,  since,  for  each,  its  own  means  of  communication  and 
instrument  of  thought  is  also  the  record  of  its  past  history, 
and  must  be  its  agency  of  future  improvement  in  culture, 
and  therefore  calls  for  more  study  in  order  to  its  fuller  com- 
prehension, and  its  development  and  elevation,  than  should  be 
given  to  any  other  tongue^  of  however  superior  intrinsic  value. 
But  we  are  further  justified  in  our  somewhat  exclusive  interest 
by  the  position  which  our  languages,  and  the  races  which  speak 
them,  hold  among  other  languages  and  races.  It  is  true, 
as  was  claimed  at  the  outset  of  these  lectures,  that  linguistic 


230  HI3T0RY    OF    THE  [lEC7\ 

science,  as  a  branch  of  human  history,  aims  at  universality, 
and  finds  the  tongues  of  the  humblest  tribes  as  essential  to 
her  completeness  as  those  of  the  most  cultivated  and  gifted 
nations  ;  but  it  is  also  true  that,  mindful  of  proportion,  she 
passes  more  lightly  over  the  one,  to  give  her  longer  and 
more  engrossed  attention  to  the  other.  While  the  weal 
and  woe  of  every  individual  that  ever  lived  goes  to  make  up 
the  sum  of  human  interests,  with  which  our  human  nature 
both  justifies  and  demands  our  sympathy,  we  cannot  but  lin- 
ger longest  and  with  keenest  participation  over  the  fortunes 
of  those  who  have  played  a  great  part  among  their  felloe's, 
whose  deeds  and  words  have  had  a  wide  and  deep-reacliing 
influence.  And  this  is,  in  a  very  marked  degree,  tlie 
character  of  the  Indo-European  race.  Its  first  entrance  as 
an  actor  into  what  we  are  accustomed  to  call  universal  his- 
tory, or  that  drama  of  action  and  influence  whose  denouement 
is  the  culture  of  the  modern  European  nations,  was  in  the 
far  East,  in  the  Persian  empire  of  Cyrus  and  his  successors. 
This  founded  itself  upon  the  ruins  and  relics  of  more  ancient 
empires  and  cultures,  belonging  to  other  peoples,  in  part 
Semitic,  in  part  of  obscurer  kindred.  For  the  Indo- Eu- 
ropeans were,  of  all  the  great  civilizing  and  governing  races, 
the  last  to  commence  their  career.  Not  only  in  Mesopo- 
tamia, but  also  in  Egypt  and  China,  the  light  of  knowledu:e 
burned  brightly,  and  great  deeds  were  done,  whereof  the 
world  will  never  lose  the  memory,  while  t1ie  tribes  of  our 
kindred  were  wandering  savages,  or  weak  and  insignificant 
communities,  struggling  for  existence.  The  Persian  empire, 
in  its  conquering  march  westward,  was  first  checked  by  one 
of  these  humble  communities,  the  little  jarring  confederation 
of  Grreek  states  and  cities,  destined  to  be^-ome,  notwithstand- 
ing  its  scanty  numbers,  the  real  foun.ler  of  Indo-European 
preeminence.  Grrecce,  enriching  itself  with  elements  drawn 
from  the  decaying  institutions  of  older  races,  assimilated 
tlieni,  and  ina^ie  them  lively  and  life-giving,  with  an  energy 
of  iienius  unrivalled  elsewhere  in  the  annals  of  tlie  world. 
Tlie  wider  the  range  of  our  historical  study,  tho  more  are  we 
penetrated  with  the  transcendent  ability  of  the  Greek  race. 
In  art,  literal ui-c,  and  science,  it  has  been  what  the  Hebrew 


VI,]  INDO-EUROPEAN    RACES.  231 

race  bas  been  in  religion,  and  its  influence  lias  Veen  hardH 
less  niilimited,  in  space  and  in  time. 

It  seemed  at  one  period,  as  is  well  known,  that  Grreece 
would  succeed  to  the  imperial  throne  of  Persia,  subjecting 
the  civilized  world  to  her  sway;  but  the  prospect  lasted  but 
for  a  moment :  the  sceptre  of  universal  dominion  slipped 
from  the  hands  of  Alexander's  successors,  and  soon  passed 
over  into  the  keeping  of  another  and  younger  branch  of  the 
same  family.  E-ome,  appropriating  the  fruits  of  Grreek 
culture,  and  adding  an  organizing  and  assimilating  force 
peculiarly  her  own,  went  forth  to  give  laws  to  all  nations, 
and  to  impose  upon  them  a  unity  of  civilization  and  of 
social  and  political  institutions.  And  if  Christianity  was  of 
Semitic  birth,  Greeks  and  Romans  gave  it  universality. 
Rejected  by  the  race  which  should  have  especially  cherished 
it,  it  was  taken  up  and  propagated  by  the  Indo-Europeans, 
and  added  a  new  unity,  a  religious  one,  to  the  forces  by 
which  Rome  bound  together  the  interests  and  fates  of  man- 
kind. 

Now  came  the  turn  of  yet  another  branch,  tlie  Grermanic. 
This  had,  indeed,  only  the  subordinate  part  to  play  of  aiding 
in  the  downfall  of  the  old  order  of  things,  and  preparing  the 
way  for  a  new  and  more  vigorous  growth.  Its  tribes  ravaged 
Europe  from  east  to  west,  and  even  to  the  farthest  southern 
coasts,  giving  ruling  class  and  monarch  to  nearly  every 
country  of  the  continent.  But  centuries  of  weakness  and 
confusion  were  the  first  result  of  this  great  up-turning,  and  it 
even  appeared  for  a  time  as  if  the  dominion  of  the  world 
were  destined  to  be  usurped  by  another  race.  The  Semites, 
inspired  with  the  furious  zeal  of  a  new  religion,  Moham- 
medanism, broke  from  their  deserts  and  overran  the  fairest 
parts  of  Asia  and  Africa  ;  and  their  conquering  hosts  en- 
tered Europe  at  either  extremity,  establishing  themselves 
firmly,  and  pushing  forward  to  take  possession  of  the  rest. 
Tiiey  recoiled,  at  last,  before  the  reviving  might  of  the 
superior  race,  and  the  last  and  grandest  era  of  Indo-Eu- 
ropean supremacy  began,  the  era  in  the  midst  of  which  we 
now  live.  For  the  past  few  centuries,  the  European  nations 
have  stood  foremost,  without  a  rival,  in  the  world's  history. 


232  IMPORTANCE   OF    111E    STUDY  [lECT. 

Thev  are  the  enlightened  and  the  enlighteners  of  mankind. 
They  alone  are  extending  the  sphere  of  human  knowledge, 
investigating  the  nature  of  matter  and  of  mind,  and  tracing 
out  their   exhibition  in  the  past  history  and  present  condi- 
tion  of  the   earth    and   its    inhabitants.      They   alone   have 
a  surplus  stock  of  intelligent  energy,  which  is  constantly- 
pushing  beyond  its  old  boundaries,  and   spurns   all   limit  to 
its    action.     The  network   of  their    activity    embraces    the 
globe  ;  their  ships  are  in  every  sea  between  the  poles,  for 
exploration,  for  trade,  or  for  conquest ;  the  weaker  races  aro 
learning   their    civilization,   falling    under    their    authority, 
or  perishing  off  the  face  of  the  land,  from  inherent  inability 
to   stand  before  them.     They  have   appropriated,  and   con- 
verted  into   outlying   provinces  of  their  race  and  culture, 
the  twin  world  of  the  West,  and  the  insular  continent  of  the 
south-eastern  seas,  while  their  lesser  colonies  dot  the  whole 
surface  of  the  inhabitable  globe.      They  have  inherited  from 
its  ancient  possessors  the  sceptre  of  universal  dominion,  over 
a  world  vastly  enlarged  beyond  that   to  which  were  limited 
the  knowledge  and  the  power  of  former  times  :  and  they  are 
worthy  to  wield  it,  since  their  sway  brings,  upon  the  whole, 
physical   well-being,   knowledge,  morality,   and    religion    to 
those  over  whom  it  is  extended. 

All  that  speciality  of  interest,  then,  which  cleaves  to  histori- 
cal investigations  respecting  the  origin,  the  earliest  condi- 
tions, the  migrations,  the  mutual  intercourse  and  influence, 
and  the  intercourse  with  outside  races,  of  that  division  of 
mankind  which  has  shown  itself  as  the  most  gifted,  as  pos- 
sessing the  highest  character  and  fulfilling  the  noblest 
destiny,  among  all  who  have  peopled  the  earth  since  the 
first  dawn  of  time,  belongs,  of  right  and  of  necessity,  to 
Indo-European  philology. 

It  m;iy,  indeed,  be  urged  that  this  is  an  interest  lying 
somewhat  apart  from  the  strict  domain  of  linguistic  science, 
whose  prime  concern  is  with  speech  itself,  not  with  the 
characters  or  acts  of  those  who  speak.  Yet,  as  was  pointed 
out  in  our  first  lecture,  the  study  of  language  is  not  intro- 
Bpective  merely  ;  they  would  unduly  narrow  its  sphere  and 
restrict  its  scope  who  should  limit  it  to  the  examination  of 


71.]  OF   INDO-EUROPEAN    LANGUAGE.  2?/S 

linguistic  facts :  these  are  so  inextiicably  intertwined  with 
historical  facts,  so  dependent  upon  and  developed  out  of 
them,  that  the  two  cannot  be  separated  in  consideration  and 
treatment ;  one  chief  department  of  the  vahie  of  the  science 
lies  in  its  capacity  to  throw  light  upon  the  history  of  human 
races.  The  importance  of  the  Indo-European  races  iu 
history  is,  then,  legitimately  to  be  included  among  the 
titles  of  Indo-European  philology  to  the  first  attention  of 
the  linguistic  scholar.  Moreover,  since  the  relation  between 
the  capacity  of  a  race  and  the  character  of  the  tongue 
originated,  and  elaborated  by  that  race  is  a  direct  and  ne- 
cessary one,  it  could  not  but  be  the  case  tliat  the  speech 
of  the  most  eminently  and  harmoniously  endowed  part  of 
mankind  should  itself  be  of  highest  character-  and  most 
harmonious  development,  and  so  the  most  worthy  object  of 
study,  in  its  structure  and  its  relations  to  mind  and  thought. 
And  this  advantage  also,  as  we  shall  see  more  plainly  here- 
after, is  in  fact  found  to  belong  to  Indo-European  language  : 
in  the  classification  of  all  human  speech  it  takes,  unchal- 
lenged, the  foremost  rank. 

But  these  considerations,  weighty  as  they  are,  do  not 
fully  explain  the  specially  intimate  bond  subsisting  between 
general  linguistic  science  and  the  study  of  Indo-European 
speech.  Not  only  did  the  establishment  of  the  unity  of 
that  family,  and  the  determination  of  the  relations  of  its 
members,  constitute  the  most  brilliant  achievement  of  the 
new  science  ;  they  were  also  its  foundation ;  it  began  with 
the  recognition  of  these  truths,  and  has  developed  with  their 
elaboration.  The  reason  is  not  diflicult  to  discover:  Indo- 
European  language  alone  furnished  such  a  grand  body  of 
related  facts  as  the  science  needed  for  a  sure  basis.  Its 
dialects  have  a  range,  in  the  variety  of  their  forms  and  in 
ihe  length  of  the  period  of  development  covered  by  them, 
which  is  sought  elsewhere  in  vain.  They  illustrate  the  pro- 
cesses of  linguistic  growth  upon  an  unrivalled  scale,  and 
from  a  primitive  era  to  which  we  can  make  but  an  iinperfect 
approach  among  the  other  languages  of  mankind.  Portions 
of  the  Chinese  literature,  it  is  true,  are  nearly  or  quite  as 
old  as  anything  Indo-European,  and  the  Chinese  language, 


234  ANTIQUITY    AND    VARIETY  [LECT. 

as  vfill  be  shown  later,  is  in  some  respects  more  primitive 
iu  its  structure  than  any  other  human  tongue  ;  but  what  it 
was  at  the  beginning,  that  it  has  ever  since  remained,  a 
solitary  example  of  a  language  almost  destitute  of  a  history. 
Egypt  has  records  to  show  of  an  age  surpassing  that  of  anv 
other  known  monuments  of  human  speech  ;  but  they  are  of 
scanty  and  enigmatical  content,  and  the  Egyptian  tongue 
also  stands  comparatively  alone,  without  descendants,  and 
almost  without  relatives.  The  Semitic  languages  come 
nearest  to  offering  a  worthy  parallel :  but  they,  too,  fall  far 
short  of  it.  The  earliest  Hebrew  documents  are  not  greatly 
exceeded  in  antiquity  by  any  others,  and  the  Hebrew  w^th 
its  related  dialects,  ancient  and  modern,  fills  up  a  linguistic 
scheme  of  no  small  wealth ;  yet  Semitic  variety  is,  after  all, 
but  poor  and  scanty  as  compared  with  Indo-European ; 
Semitic  language  possesses  a  toughness  and  rigidity  of  struc- 
ture which  has  made  its  history  vastly  less  full  of  instructive 
change ;  and  its  beginnings  are  of  unsurpassed  obscurity. 
The  Semitic  languages  are  rather  a  group  of  closely  kindi'ed 
dialects  than  a  family  of  widely  varied  branches :  their 
whole  yield  to  linguistic  science  is  hardly  more  than  might 
be  won  from  a  single  subdivision  of  Indo-European  speech, 
like  the  Germanic  or  Eomanic.  None  of  the  other  great 
races  into  which  mankind  is  divided  cover  with  their  dialects, 
to  any  noteworthy  extent,  time  as  well  as  space  ;  for  the 
most  part,  we  know  nothing  more  respecting  their  speech 
than  is  to  be  read  iu  its  present  living  forms.  Now  it  is  so 
obvious  as  hardly  to  require  to  be  pointed  out,  that  a  science 
whose  method  is  prevailingly  historical,  which  seeks  to  ar- 
rive at  an  understanding  of  the  nature,  office,  and  source 
of  language  by  studying  its  gradual  growth,  by  tracing  out 
the  changes  it  has  undergone  iu  passing  from  generation  to 
generation,  froin  race  to  race,  must  depend  for  the  sound- 
ness of  its  methods  and  the  sureness  of  its  results  upon  the 
fulness  of  illustration  of  these  historical  changes  furnished 
by  the  material  of  its  investigations.  It  is  true  that  the 
student's  historical  researches  are  not  wholly  batlled  by  the 
absence  of  older  diale«jts,  with  whose  forms  he  may  compai'e 
those  of  more  modern  date.     Something  of  the  development 


VI.]  OF    INDO-EUROPEAN    LANGUAGE.  235 

of  everj  language  is  indicated  in  its  own  structure  with 
sufficient  clearness  to  be  read  by  analytic  study.  Yet  more 
is  to  be  traced  out  by  means  of  the  comparison  of  kindred 
contemporaneous  dialects  ;  for,  in  their  descent  from  their 
common  ancestor,  it  can  hardly  be  that  each  one  will  not 
have  preserved  some  portion  of  the  primitive  material 
which  the  others  have  lost.  Thus — to  illustrate  briefly  by 
reference  to  one  or  two  of  our  former  examples — the  iden- 
tity of  our  suffix  ly,  in  such  words  as  godly  and  truly ^  with 
the  adjective  like  might  perhaps  have  been  conjectured  from 
the  English  alone  ;  and  it  is  made  virtually  certain  by  com- 
parison with  the  modern  Grerman  {c/ottlich,  treulich)  or 
Netherlandish  (yoddelijk,  waarlijlc)  ;  it  does  not  absolutely 
need  a  reference  to  older  dialects,  like  the  Anglo-Saxon  or 
Grothic,  for  its  establishment.  Again,  not  only  the  Sanskrit 
and  other  ancient  languages  exhibit  the  full  form  asmi, 
whence  comes  our  /  am,  but  the  same  is  also  to  be  found 
almost  unaltered  in  the  present  Lithuanian  esmi'.  But, 
even  if  philological  skill  and  acumen  had  led  the  student  of 
Germanic  language  to  the  conjecture  that  /  loved  is  origin- 
ally /  love-did,  it  must  ever  have  remained  a  conjecture 
only,  a  mere  plausible  hypothesis,  but  for  the  accident  v.hich 
caused  the  preservation  to  our  day  of  the  fragment  of  manu- 
script containing  a  part  of  Bishop  Ulfilas's  G-othic  Bible. 
And  a  host  of  points  in  the  structure  of  the  tongues  of  our 
Grermanic  branch  which  still  remain  obscure  would,  as  we 
know,  be  cleared  up,  had  we  in  our  possession  relics  of  them 
at  a  yet  earlier  stage  of  their  separate  growth.  The  extent 
to  w^hich  the  history  of  a  body  of  languages  may  be  pene- 
trated by  the  comparison  of  contemporary  dialects  alone  will, 
of  course,  vary  greatly  in  different  cases  ;  depending,  in  the 
first  place,  upon  the  number,  variety,  and  degree  of  relation 
of  the  dialects,  and,  in  the  second  place,  upon  their  joint 
and  several  measure  of  conservation  of  ancient  formiS  :  but 
it  is  also  evident  that  the  results  thus  arrived  at  for  modern 
tongues  will  be,  upon  the  whole,  both  scanty  and  dubious, 
compared  with  those  obtained  by  comparing  them  with 
ancient  dialects  of  the  same  stock.  Occasionally,  witljiu  the 
narrow    limits    of  a    single  branch    or  group,  the  student 


230  INDO-EUROPEAN    PHILOLOGY  [lEC.T. 

eDJoys  the  advantage  of  access  to  the  parent  tongue  itself, 
from  which  the  more  recent  idioms  are  almost  bodily  de- 
rived:  thus,  for  example,  our  possession  of  the  Latin  gives 
to  our  readings  of  the  history  of  the  Romanic  tongues,  our 
determination  of  the  laws  which  have  governed  their  growth, 
a  vastly  higher  degree  of  definiteness  and  certainty  than  we 
could  reach  if  we  only  knew  that  such  a  parent  tongue  must 
have  existed,  and  had  to  restore  its  forms  by  careful  com- 
parison and  deduction.  Next  in  value  to  this  is  the  advan- 
tage of  commanding  a  rich  body  of  older  and  younger 
dialects  of  the  same  lineage,  wherein  the  common  speech  is 
beheld  at  nearer  and  remoter  distances  from  its  source,  so 
that  we  can  discover  the  direction  of  its  currents,  and  fill 
out  with  less  of  uncertainty  those  parts  of  tlieir  net- 
work of  which  the  record  is  obliterated.  This  secondary 
advantage  we  enjoy  in  the  Germanic,  the  Persian,  the 
Indian  branches  of  Indo-European  speech  ;  and,  among  the 
grander  divisions  of  human  language,  we  enjoy  it  to  an 
extent  elsewhere  unapproached  in  the  Indo-European 
family,  that  immense  and  varied  body  of  allied  forms  of 
speech,  whose  lines  of  historic  development  are  seen  to  cover 
a  period  of  between  three  and  four  thousand  years,  as  they 
converge  toward  a  meeting  in  a  yet  remoter  past. 

Herein  lies  the  sufficient  explaiation  of  that  intimate 
connection,  that  almost  coincidence,  which  we  have  noticed 
between  the  development  of  Indo-European  comparative  phi- 
lology and  that  of  the  general  science  of  language.  In  oi-der 
tn  comprehend  human  language  in  every  part,  the  student 
would  wish  to  have  its  whule  growth,  in  all  its  divisions  and 
subdivisions,  through  all  its  pliases,  laid  before  him  for  in- 
spection in  full  authentic  documents.  Since,  however,  anv- 
il ing  like  this  is  impossible,  he  has  done  the  best  that  lay 
Nsithin  his  power:  he  has  thrown  himself  into  that  deparr- 
ment  of  speech  which  had  the  largest  share  of  its  history 
tl  us  illustrated,  and  by  studying  that  has  tried  to  learn  iiow 
to  deal  with  the  yet  more  scanty  and  fragmentary  materials 
]);escnted  him  in  other  departments.  Here  could  be  formed 
the  desired  nucleus  of  a  science;  here  tlie  general  laws  of 
linguistic  life  could  be  discovered  j  here  could  be   worked 


?!.]  AND    THE    SCIENCE   OF    LANGUAGE.  237 

out  those  metliods  and  processes  '^hicli,  witTi  siicli  modifica- 
tions as  the  varying  circumstances  rendered  necessary, 
should  be  applied  in  the  investigation  of  other  types  of 
language  also.  The  foundation  was  broad  enough  to  build 
up  a  shapely  and  many-sided  edifice  upon.  Tet  the  study 
of  Indo-European  language  is  not  the  science  of  language. 
Such  is  the  diversity  in  unity  of  human  speech  that  exclu- 
sive attention  to  any  one  of  its  types  could  only  give  us 
partial  and  false  -vdews  of  its  nature  and  history.  Endlessly 
as  the  dialects  of  our  family  appear  to  diff'er  from  one 
another,  they  have  a  distinct  common  character,  which  is 
brought  to  our  apprehension  only  when  we  compare  them 
with  those  of  other  stock ;  they  are  far  from  exhausting  the 
variety  of  expression  which  the  human  mind  is  capable  of 
devising  for  its  thought  ;  the  linguist  who  trains  himself  in 
them  alone  will  be  liable  to  narrowness  of  vision,  and  will 
stumble  when  he  comes  to  walk  in  other  fields.  AVe  claim 
only  that  their  inner  character  and  outer  circumstances 
Cjombine  to  give  them  the  first  place  in  the  regard  of  the 
linguistic  scholar ;  that  their  investigation  will  constitute  in 
the  future,  as  it  has  done  in  the  past,  a  chief  object  of  his 
I  study  ;  and  that  their  complete  elucidation  is  both  the  most 
attainable  and  the  most  desirable  and  rewarding  I'bject  pro- 
posed to  itself  by  linguistic  science. 

The  general  method  of  linguistic  research  has  already  been 
variously  set  forth  and  illustrated,  in  an  incidental  way  ;  but 
a  summary  recapitulation  of  its  principles,  with  fuller  refer- 
ence to  the  grounds  on  which  they  are  founded,  will  not  be 
amiss  at  this  point  in  our  jrogress.  The  end  sought  by  the 
scientific  investigator  of  lar^guage,  it  will  be  remembered,  is 
not  a  mere  apprehension  and  exposition,  however  full  and 
systematic,  of  the  phenomena  of  a  language,  or  of  all  human 
speech — of  its  words,  its  forms,  its  rules,  its  usages  :  that  is 
work  for  grammarians  and  lexicographers.  He  strives  to 
discover  the  why  of  everything  :  why  these  words,  these 
affixes,  have  such  and  such  meanings  ;  why  usage  is  thus, 
and  not  otherwise  ;  why  so  many  and  such  words  and  forms, 
and  they  only,  ^e  found  in  a  given  tongue — and  so  on,  in 
ever  farther-reaching  inquiry,   back   even   to  the  question. 


233  HISTORICAL    METHOD.  [lECY. 

why  "we  spealv  at  all.  And  since  it  appears  that  every  ex- 
isting or  recorded  dialect,  and  every  Tvord  composing  it,  is 
the  altered  successor,  altered  in  both  form  and  meaning,  of 
some  other  and  earlier  one  ;  since  all  known  language  has 
been  made  what  it  is,  out  of  something  more  original,  by 
action  proceeding  from  the  minds  of  those  who  have  used 
it,  its  examination  must  be  conducted  historically,  like  that 
of  any  other  institution  which  has  had  a  historic  growth  and 
development.  All  human  speech  has  been  during  long  ages 
modified,  was  even  perhaps  in  the  first  place  produced,  by 
human  capacities,  as  impelled  by  human  necessities  and 
governed  by  human  circumstances ;  it  has  become  what 
these  influences  by  their  gradual  action  have  made  it :  it,  on 
the  one  hand,  is  to  be  understood  only  as  their  product ; 
they,  on  the  other  hand,  are  to  be  read  in  the  effects  which 
they  have  wrought  upon  it.  To  trace  out  the  transforma- 
tions of  language,  following  it  backward  through  its  succes- 
sive stages  even  to  its  very  beginnings,  if  we  can  reach  so 
far  ;  to  infer  from  the  changes  which  it  is  undergoing  and 
has  undergone  the  nature  and  way  of  action  of  the  forces 
which  govern  it ;  from  these  and  from  the  observed  charac- 
ter of  its  beginnings  to  arrive  at  a  comprehension  of  its 
origin — such  are  the  inquiries  which  occupy  the  attention 
of  the  linguistic  scholar,  and  which  must  guide  him  to  his 
ultimate  conclusions  respecting  the  nature  of  speech  as  an 
instrumentality  of  communication  and  of  thought,  and  its 
value  as  a  means  of  human  progress. 

And  as  in  its  general  character,  so  also  in  its  details,  the 
nrocess  of  investigation  is  historical.  AVe  have  already  ■ 
seen  (lecture  second,  p.  5i)  that  the  whole  structure  of 
our  science  rests  upon  the  study  of  individual  words ;  the 
lab(>urs  of  the  etymologist  must  precede  and  prepare  the 
wav  for  everything  that  is  to  follow.  But  every  etymolo- 
gical question  is  strictly  a  historical  one  ;  it  concerns  the 
steps  of  a  historical  process,  as  shown  by  historical  evi- 
dences ;  it  implies  a  judgment  of  the  value  of  testimony,  and  a 
recognition  of  the  truth  fairly  deducible  therefrom.  AVhat 
is  proved  respecting  the  origin  and  change^  of  each  particu- 
lar word  by  all  the  evidence  within  reach,  is  the  etyraolo- 


yi  J  ETYMOLOGY.  239 

gist's  ever-recurring  inquiry.  To  answer  it  success  fall  j, 
be  needs  a  comuination  of  many  qualities ;  he  must  be,  in 
fact,  a  wbole  court  in  bimself  :  tbe  acuteness,  perseverance, 
and  enterprise  of  the  advocate  must  be  his,  to  gather  every 
particle  of  testimony,  every  analogy,  every  decision,  bearing 
upon  the  case  in  hand  ;  he  must  play  the  part  of  the  op- 
posing counsel,  in  carefully  sifting  the  collected  evidence, 
testing  the  character  and  disinterestedness  of  the  witnesses, 
ci  OSS-examining  them  to  expose  their  blunders  and  inconsist- 
encies ;  he  must  have,  above  all,  the  learning  and  candour  of 
the  judge,  that  he  may  sum  up  and  give  judgment  impar- 
tially, neither  denying  the  right  which  is  fairly  established, 
nor  allowing  that  which  rests  on  uncertain  allegation  and 
insufficient  proof.  In  short,  the  same  gifts  and  habits  of 
mind  which  make  the  successful  historian  of  events  are 
wanted  also  to  make  the  successful  historian  of  words. 

The  ill-repute  in  which  etymology  and  those  who  follow 
it  are  held  in  common  opinion  is  a  telling  indication  of  the 
difficulty  attending  its  practice.  The  uncertainty  and  ar- 
bitrariness of  its  prevailing  methods,  the  absurdity  of  its 
results,  have  been  the  theme  of  many  a  cutting  and  well- 
directed  gibe.  It  has  in  all  ages  been  a  tempting  occupa- 
tion to  curious  minds,  and  always  a  slippery  one.  An 
incalculable  amount  of  human  ingenuity  has  been  wasted 
in  its  false  pursuit.  Men  eminent  for  acuteness  and  sound 
judgment  in  other  departments  of  intellectual  labour  have 
in  this  been  guilty  of  folly  unaccountable.  It  has  been 
often  remarked  that  the  Grreeks  and  Eomans,  when  once 
engaged  in  an  etymological  inquiry,  seem  to  have  taken  leave 
of  their  common  sense.  Grreat  as  were  the  advantages 
oifered  by  the  Sanskrit  language  to  its  native  analysts,  in 
the  regularity  of  its  structure  and  the  small' proportion  of 
obscure  words  which  it  contained,  they  stumbled  continually 
as  soon  as  they  left  the  plain  track  of  the  commonest  and 
clearest  derivations,  and  their  religious,  philosophical^  and 
grammatical  books  are  filled  with  word-genealogies  as  fanci- 
ful and  unsound  as  those  of  the  classic  writers.  In  no  one 
respect  does  the  linguistic  science  of  the  present  day  sho^ 
its  radical  superiority  to  that  of  former  times  more  clearly 


2^0  THE    COMPARATIVE    METHOD  [lECI 

than  in  the    style    and  method   of  its  etymologies  :  upon 
these,  indeed,  is  its  superiority  directly  founded. 

The  grand  means,  now,  of  modern  etymological  research 
is  the  extensive  comparison  of  kindred  forms.  How  this 
should  be  so  appears  clearly  enough  from  what  has  been 
already  taught  respecting  the  growih  of  dialects  and  the 
genetical  connections  of  languages.  If  spoken  tongues  stood 
apart  from  one  another,  each  a  separate  and  isolated  entity, 
they  would  afford  no  scope  for  the  comparative  method.  As 
Buch  entities  the  ancient  philology  regarded  them  ;  or,  if 
their  relationship  was  in  some  cases  recognized,  it  was 
wrongly  apprehended  and  perversely  applied — as  when,  for 
instance,  the  Latin  was  looked  upon  as  derived  from  the 
Greek,  and  its  words  were  sought  to  be  etymologized  out  of 
the  Greek  lexicon,  as  corrupted  forms  of  Greek  vocables. 
In  the  view  of  the  present  science,  while  each  existing  dia- 
lect is  the  descendant  of  an  older  tongue,  so  other  existing 
dialects  are  equally  descendants  of  the  same  tongue.  All 
have  kept  a  part,  and  lost  a  part,  of  the  material  of  their 
common  inheritance  ;  all  have  preserved  portions  of  it  in  a 
comparatively  unchanged  form,  while  they  have  altered  other 
portions  perhaps  past  recognition.  But,  while  thus  agreed 
in  the  general  fact  and  the  general  methods  of  change,  they 
difier  indefinitely  from  one  another  in  the  details  of  the 
changes  effected.  Each  has  saved  something  which  others 
have  lost,  or  kept  in  pristine  purity  what  they  have  obscured 
or  overlaid:  or  else,  from  their  variously  modified  forms  can  be 
deduced  with  confidence  the  original  whence  these  severally 
diverged.  Every  word,  then,  in  whose  examination  the 
linguistic  scholar  engages,  is  to  be  first  set  alongside  its 
correspondents  or  analogues  in  other  related  languages,  that 
its  history  may  be  read  aright.  Tims  the  deficiencies  of 
the  evidence  which  each  member  of  a  connected  group  of 
dialects  contains  respecting  its  own  genesis  and  growth  are 
made  up,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  by  the  rest,  and  historical 
results  are  reached  having  a  greatly  increased  fulness  and 
certainty.  The  establishment  of  a  grand  family  of  related 
languages,  like  the  Indo-European,  makes  each  member  con- 


VI.]  IN    LINGUISTIC    SCIENCE.  241 

tribute,  either  imiriecliatelj  or  mediately,  to  tlie  elucidation  of 
eveiy  other. 

The  great  prominence  in  the  new  science  of  language  of 
this  comparative  method  gave  tha.t  science  its  familiar  title 
of  "  comparative  philology,"  a  title  which  is  not  yet  lost  in 
popular  usage,  although  now  fully  outgrown  and  antiquated. 
It  designated  very  suitably  the  early  growing  phase  of  lin- 
guistic study,  that  of  the  gathering  and  sifting  of  material,  the 
elaboration  of  methods,  the  establishment  of  rules,  the  deduc- 
tion of  first  general  results ;  it  still  properly  designates 
the  process  by  which  the  study  is  extended  and  perfected ; 
but  to  call  the  whole  science  any  longer  "  comparative  philo- 
logy "  is  not  less  inappropriate  than  to  call  the  science  of 
zoology  "  comparative  anatomy,"  or  botanical  science  the 
*'  comparison  of  plants." 

But  the  comparative  method,  as  we  must  not  fail  to  no- 
tice, is  no  security  against  loose  and  false  etymologizing ;  it 
is  not  less  liable  to  abuse  than  any  other  good  thing.  If  it 
is  to  be  made  fruitful  of  results  for  the  advancement  of 
science,  it  must  not  be  w^ielded  arbitrarily  and  wildly ;  it 
must  have  its  fixed  rules  of  application.  Some  appear  to 
imagine  that,  in  order  to  earn  the  title  of  "  comparative 
philologist,"  they  have  but  to  take  some  given  language  and 
run  with  it  i  ito  all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  collating  its  ma- 
i  terLal  and  forms  Avith  those  of  any  other  tongue  they  may 
please  to  select.  But  that  which  makes  the  value  of  com- 
parison—  namely,  genetical  relationship  —  also  determines 
the  way  in  which  it  shall  be  rendered  valuable.  We  com- 
pare in  order  to  bring  to  light  resemblances  which  have  their 
ground  and  explanation  in  a  real  historical  identity  of  origin. 
We  must  proceed,  then,  as  in  any  other  genealogicaj,  in- 
quiry, by  tracing  the  difi'erent  lines  of  descent  backward 
from  step  to  step  toward  their  points  of  convergence.  Tho 
work  of  comparison  is  begun  between  the  tongues  most 
nearly  related,  and  is  gradually  extended  to  those  whose 
connection  is  more  and  more  remote.  We  first  set  up,  for 
example,  a  group  like  the  Germanic,  and  by  the  study  of  its 
internal  relations  learn  to  comprehend  its  latest  history,  dis- 

16 


242  MISAPPLICATIONS    OF  [lECT. 

tinguishiug  and  setting  apart  all  that  is  the  result  of  inde- 
pendent growth  and  change  among  its  dialects,  recognizing 
what  in  it  is  original,  and  therefore  fair  subject  of  compari- 
son with  the  results  of  a  like  process  performed  upon  the 
other  branches  of  the  same  family.  It  needs  not,  indeed, 
that  the  restoration  of  primitive  Grermanic  speech  should  be 
made  complete  before  any  farther  step  is  taken  ;  there  are 
correspondences  so  conspicuous  and  palpable  running  through 
all  the  varieties  of  Indo-European  speech,  that,  the  unity  of 
the  family  having  been  once  established,  they  are  at  a  glance 
seen  and  accepted  at  their  true  value.  But  only  a  small 
part  of  the  analogies  of  two  more  distantly  related  languages 
are  of  this  character,  and  their  recognition  will  be  made 
both  complete  and  trustworthy  in  proportion  as  the  nearer 
congeners  of  each  language  are  first  subjected  to  compari- 
son. If  English  were  the  only  existing  Grermanic  tongue, 
we  could  still  compare  it  with  Attic  Grreek,  and  point  out  a 
host  of  coincidences  which  would  prove  their  common  origin  ; 
but,  as  things  are,  to  conduct  our  investigation  in  this  way, 
leaviuor  out  of  sio:ht  the  related  dialects  on  each  side,  would 
be  most  unsound  and  unphilological ;  it  would  render  as 
liable  to  waste  no  small  share  of  our  effort  upon  those  parts 
of  English  which  are  peculiar,  of  latest  growth,  and  can  have 
no  genetic  connection  whatever  with  aught  in  the  Grreek  :  it 
would  expose  us,  on  the  one  hand,  to  make  false  identifica- 
tions (as  between  our  whole  and  the  Grreek  holos,  *  entire ')  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  find  diversity  where  the  help  of 
older  dialectic  forms  on  both  sides  would  show  striking  re- 
semblance. AVhat  analogy,  for  instance,  do  we  discern 
between  our  hear,  in  they  hear,  and  Greek  pherousi  ?  but 
comparison  of  the  other  Germanic  dialects  allows  us  to  trace 
hear  directly  back  to  a  Germanic  form  herand,  and  Doric 
Greek  gives  uspheronfi,  from  which  comes  pherousi  hj  one  of 
the  regular  euphonic  rules  of  the  languai]^e  ;  the  law  of  per- 
mutation of  unites  in  the  Germanic  languages  (see  above,  p. 
07)  exhibits  h  as  the  regular  correspondent  in  Low  Ger- 
man dialects  to  the  original  as])irate  ph  ;  and  the  historical 
identity  of  the  two  words  compared,  in  root  and  termination, 
is  thus  put  beyond  the  reach  of  cavil. 


i. 


VI  ]  THE    COMPARATIVE    METHOD.  li'JfcS 

Yet  more  contrary  to  sound  method  would  it  be,  for  ex- 
ample, to  compare  directly  English,  Portuguese-,  Persian, 
and  Bengali,  four  of  the  latest  and  most  altered  representa- 
tives of  the  four  great  branches  of  Indo-European  speech  to 
which  they  severally  belong.  Nothing,  or  almost  nothing, 
that  is  peculiar  to  the  Bengali  as  compared  with  the  Sanskrit, 
to  the  Persian  as  compared  with  the  ancient  Avestan  and 
Achsemenidau  dialects,  to  the  Portuguese  as  compared  with 
the  Latin,  can  be  historically  connected  with  what  belongs 
to  English  or  any  other  Grermanic  tongue.  Their  ties  of 
mutual  relationship  run  backward  through  those  older  repre- 
sentatives of  the  branches,  and  are  to  be  sought  and  traced 
there. 

But  worst  of  all  is  the  drawing  out  of  alleged  correspond- 
ences, and  the  fabrication  of  etymologies,  between  such  lan- 
guages as  the  English  —  or,  indeed,  any  Indo-European 
dialect — on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Hebrew,  or  the  Finnish, 
or  the  Chinese,  on  the  other.  Each  of  these  last  is  the  fully 
recognized  member  of  a  well-established  family  of  lanfjuafies, 
distinct  from  the  Indo-European.  If  there  be  genetic  rela- 
tion between  either  of  them  and  an  Indo-European  language, 
it  must  lie  back  of  the  whole  grammatical  development  of 
their  respective  families,  and  can  only  be  brought  to  light  by 
the  reduction  of  each,  though  means  of  the  most  penetrating 
and  exhaustive  study  of  the  dialects  confessedly  akin  with  it, 
to  its  primitive  form,  as  cleared  of  all  the  gj-owth  and  change 
wrought  upon  it  by  ages  of  separation.  There  may  be  scores, 
or  hundreds,  of  apparent  resemblances  between  them,  but 
these  are  worthless  as  signs  of  relationship  until  an  investi- 
gation not  less  profound  than  we  have  indicated  shall  show 
that  they  are  not  merely  superficial  and  delusive. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  we  are  reasoning  in  a  vicious 
circle,  in  thus  requiring  that  two  languages  shall  have  been 
proved  related  before  the  correspondences  which  are  to  show 
their  relationship  shall  be  accepted  as  real.  We  are  only  set- 
ting forth  the  essentially  cumulative  nature  of  the  evidences 
of  linguistic  connection.  The  first  processes  of  comparison 
by  which  it  is  sought  to  establish  the  position  and  relations 
of  a  new  language  are  tentative  merely.     No  sound  linguist 


244j  modern  etymology.  [lect» 

is  unmindful  of  the  two  opposing  possibilities  wliicli  interfere 
with  the  certainty  of  his  conclusions  :  first,  that  seeming 
coincidences  may  turn  out  accidental  and  illusory  only  ; 
second,  that  beneath  apparent  discordance  may  be  hidden 
genetic  identity.  AYith  every  new  analogy  which  his  re- 
searches bring  to  view,  his  confidence  in  the  genuineness 
and  historic  value  of  those  already  found  is  increased.  And 
when,  examining  each  separate  fact  in  all  the  light  that  he 
can  cast  upon  it,  from  sources  near  and  distant,  he  has  at 
length  fully  satisfied  himself  that  two  tongues  are  funda- 
mentally related,  their  whole  mutual  aspect  is  thereby  modi- 
fied ;  he  becomes  expectant  of  signs  of  relationship  every- 
where, and  looks  for  them  in  phenomena  which  would  not 
otherwise  attract  his  attention  for  a  moment.  When,  on 
the  contrary,  an  orderly  and  thorough  examination,  proceed- 
ing from  the  nearer  to  the  remoter  degrees  of  connection, 
has  demonstrated  the  position  of  two  languages  in  two 
diverse  families,  the  weight  of  historic  probability  is  sliifted 
to  the  other  scale,  and  makes  directly  against  the  interpret- 
ation of  their  surface  resemblances  as  the  eftect  of  anvthin<j 
but  accident  or  borrowing. 

The  new  etymological  science  difi*ers  from  the  old,  not  in 
the  character  of  the  results  which  it  is  willing  to  admit,  but 
in  the  character  of  the  evidence  on  which  it  is  willing  to  admit 
them.  It  will  even  derive  lucus,  '  grove,'  from  71011  lucendOf 
*  its  not  shining  there,'  if  only  historical  proof  of  the 
derivation  be  furnished.  It  finds  no  difliculty  in  recognizing 
as  identical  two  words  like  the  French  eveqiie  and  the  Eng- 
lish bishop,  which  have  not  a  single  sound  or  letter  in  com- 
mon ;  for  each  is  readily  traceable  back  to  the  Greek 
episkopos*  But  it  does  not  draw  thence  the  conclusion 
that,  in  this  or  in  any  other  pair  of  languages,  two  words 
meaning  the  same  thing  may,  whatever  their  seeming  dis- 
cordance, be  assumed  to  be  one,  or  are  likely  to  be  proved 

*  F.i^i'qw,  ojirlicr  evcique.  cvrf.c.  ropi'osonts  the  syllables  episk,  y<\\\\i'  bishop^ 
earlier  bi.sh^p,  represents  the  syllables  pisknp.  Eaeh  lias  saved,  and  still  ac- 
cents, the  accented  sylluhlo  of  the  orii;  nil  ;  but  the  Fieneh,  whose  words  are 
prcvailinijlv  acecntcd  on  their  tiiial  syihiblcs.  has  dropped  oti"  all  that  followed 
It ;  whil"  tiie  (lermauio  ton^iftie,  acfcntini;  more  usually  the  peuult  iu  w.vdt 
»f  this  structure,  has  reiaiuod  the  succeeding;  sylhiblc. 


VI.]  MODERN    ETYMOLOGY.  245 

o-ne :  it  waits  for  the  demonstration  in  each  separate  case. 
The  claim  raa.de  in  our  third  lecture,  that,  in  the  history  of 
liDguistic  changes,  any  given  sound  may  pass  over  into  any 
other,  any  given  meaning  become  modified  to  its  opposite,  or 
to  something  apparently  totally  unconnected  with  it,  may 
seem  to  take  away  from  etymology  all  reliable  basis  ;  but  it 
is  not  so  ;  for  the  same  researches  which  establish  this  claim 
show  also  the  difference  between  those  facile  changes  which 
may  be  looked  for  everywhere,  and  the  exceptional  ones 
which  only  direct  and  convincing  evidence  can  force  us  to 
accept  as  actual  in  any  language  ;  they  teach  us  to  study  the 
laws  of  transition  of  each  separate  language  as  part  of  its 
idiosyncrasy,  and  to  refrain  from  applying  remote  and 
doubtful  analogies  in  the  settlement  of  difficult  questions. 

In  short,  the  modern  science  of  language  imposes  upon  all 
who  pursue  it  thoroughness  and  caution.       It  requires  that 
every  case  be  examined  in  all  its  bearings.    It  refuses  to  ac- 
cept results  not  founded  on  an  exhaustive  treatment  of  all 
the  attainable   evidence.      It  furnishes   no  instruments   of 
research  which  may  not  be  turned  to  false  uses,  and  made  to 
yield  false  results,  in  careless  and  unskilful  hands.     It  sup- 
plies nothing  which  can  take  the  place  of  sound  learning 
and  critical  judgment.      Even  those  who  are  most  familiar 
with  its  methods  may  make  lamentable  failures  when  they 
come  to  apply  them  to  a  language  of  which  they  have  only 
superficial  knowledge,*  or  which  they  compare  directly  v\  ith 
some  distant  tongue,  regardless  of  its  relations  in  its  own 
family,  and  of  its  history  as  determined  by  comparison  with 
these.     A   scholar  profoundly   versed    in    the    comparative 
A  philology  of  some  special  group  of  languages,  and  whom  we 
/     gladly  suffer  to  instruct  us  as  to  their  development,  may 
[      have  nothing  to  say  that  is  worth  our  listening  to,  when  he 
1      would  fain  trace  their  remoter  connections  with  groups  of 
\     which   he  knows  little   or  nothing.     Notwithstanding   the 

*  Thus,  as  a  striking  example  and  -warning,  hardly  a  more  utter  caricature 
of  the  comparative  method  is  to  be  met  with  than  that  given  by  Bopp.  tlie 
great  founder  and  author  of  the  method,  himself,  in  the  papers  in  winch  he 
attempts  to  prove  the  Malay-Polynesian  and  the  Caucasian  language:^  eutitleJ 
to  a  place  in  the  Indo-European  family. 


2i0  MISAPPREHENSION    OF    THE    METHODS  [lECT. 

immense  progress  which  the  study  of  languacje  has  made 
during  the  past  few  years,  the  world  is  still  full  of  hasty 
generalizers,  who  would  ratlier  skim  wide  and  difficult  con- 
clusions oft'  the  surface  of  half-examined  facts  than  wait  to 
gather  them  as  the  fruits  of  slow  and  laborious  research. 
The  greater  part  of  the  rubbish  which  is  even  now  heaping 
up  in  the  path  of  our  science,  encumbering  its  progress, 
comes  from  the  neglect  of  these  simple  principles :  that 
no  man  is  qualified  to  compare  fruitfully  two  languages  or 
groups  who  is  not  deeply  grounded  in  the  knowledge  of  botti, 
and  that  no  language  can  be  fruitfully  compared  with  others 
which  stand,  or  are  presumed  to  stand,  in  a  more  distant  re- 
lationship with  it,  until  it  has  been  first  compared  with  its 
own  next  of  kin. 

We  see,  it  may  be  farther  remarked,  upon  how  narrow 
and  imperfect  a  basis  those  comparative  philologists  build  who 
are  content  with  a  facile  setting  side  by  side  of  words  ; 
whose  materials  are  simple  vocabularies,  longer  or  shorter,  of 
terms  representing  common  ideas.  There  was  a  period  in 
the  history  of  linguistic  science  when  this  was  the  true 
method  of  investigation,  and  it  still  continues  to  be  useful  in 
certain  departments  of  the  field  of  research.  It  is  the  first 
experimental  process  ;  it  determines  the  nearest  and  most 
obvious  groupings,  and  prepares  the  way  for  more  penetrat- 
ing study.  Travellers,  explorers,  in  regions  exhibiting  great 
diversity  of  idiom  and  destitute  of  literary  records — like  our 
western  wilds,  or  the  vast  plains  of  inner  Africa — do  essen- 
tial service  by  gathering  and  supplying  such  material,  any- 
thing better  being  rendered  inaccessible  by  lack  of  leisure, 
opportunity,  or  practice.  But  it  must  be  regarded  as  pro- 
visional and  introductoryj  acceptable  only  because  the  best 
that  is  to  be  had.  Grenetic  correspondences  in  limited  lists 
of  words,  however  skilfully  selected,  are  apt  to  be  conspicu- 
ous only  when  the  tongues  they  represent  are  of  near 
kindred  ;  and  even  then  they  niay  be  in  no  small  measuru 
obscured  or  counterbalanced  by  discordances,  so  that  deeper 
and  closer  study  is  needed,  in  order  to  bring  out  satisfac- 
torily to  view  the  fact  and  degree  of  relationship.  Penetra- 
tion of  the  secrets  of  linguistic  structure  and  grcwth,  dis. 


TI.]  AND    OBJECTS   OF    ETYMOLOGY.  247 

covery  of  correspondences  whicli  lie  out  of  the  reach  of 
careless  and  uninstracted  eyes,  rejection  of  deceptive  re- 
semblances which  have  no  historical  foundation — these  are 
the  most  important  part  of  the  linguistic  student's  work. 
Surface  colhition  without  genetic  analysis,  as  far-reaching  as 
the  attainabje  evidence  allows,  is  but  a  travesty  of  the 
methods  of  comparative  philology. 

Another  not  infrequent  misapprehension  of  etymologic 
Btudy  consists  in  limiting  its  sphere  of  action  to  a  tracing 
out  of  the  correspondences  of  w^ords.  This  is,  indeed,  as  we 
have  called  it,  the  fundamental  stage,  on  the  solidity  of 
which  depends  the  security  of  all  the  rest  of  the  structure ; 
but  it  is  only  that.  Comparative  etymology,  like  chemistry, 
runs  into  an  infinity  of  detail,  in  which  the  mind  of  the  stu- 
dent is  sometimes  entangled,  and  his  effort  engrossed ;  it 
has  its  special  rules  and  methods,  which  admit  within  certain 
limits  of  being  mechanically  applied,  by  one  ignorant  or 
heedless  of  their  true  ground  and  meaning.  Many  a  man 
is  a  skilful  and  successful  hunter  of  verbal  connections  whose 
views  of  linguistic  science  are  of  the  crudest  and  most  im- 
perfect character.  Not  only  does  he  thus  miss  what  ought 
to  be  his  highest  reward,  the  recognition  of  those  wide 
relations  and  great  truths  to  which  his  study  of  words  should 
conduct  him,  but  his  w^hole  work  lacks  its  proper  basis,  and 
is  liable  to  prove  weak  at  any  point.  The  history  of  words 
is  inextricably  bound  up  with  that  of  human  thought  and 
life  and  action,  and  cannot  be  read  without  it.  We  fully 
understand  no  word  till  we  comprehend  the  motives  and 
conditions  that  called  it  forth  and  determined  its  form.  The 
word  money,  for  examiple,  is  not  explained  when  we  have 
marshalled  the  whole  array  of  its  correspondents  in  all  Eu- 
ropean tongues,  and  traced  them  up  to  their  source  in  the 
Latin  moneta  :  all  the  historical  circumstances  which  have 
caused  a  term  once  limited  to  an  obscure  city  to  be  current 
now  in  the  mouths  of  such  immense  communities  ;  the  wants 
and  devices  of  civilization  and  commerce  which  have  created 
the  thing  designated  by  the  word  and  made  it  what  it  is; 
the  outward  circumstances  and  mental  associations  which,  by 
successive  changes,  have  worked  out  the  name  from  a  rcot 


2i:8  LINGTJISTIC    COMPARISON    UXIVEP.tAL. 

signifying  'to  think ;'  the  structure  of  organ,  and  the  habita 
of  utterance — in  themselves  and  in  their  origin — Avhich  have 
raetamorpho.sed  moneta  into  money : — all  this,  and  more, 
is  necessary  to  the  linguistic  scholar's  perfect  mastery  of 
this  single  term.  There  is  no  limit  to  the  extent  to  which 
the  roots  of  being  of  almost  every  word  ramify  thus  through 
the  whole  structure  of  the  tongue  to  which  it  belongs,  or 
even  of  many  tongues,  and  through  the  history  of  the  people 
who  speak  them  :  if  we  are  left  in  most  cases  to  come  far 
short  of  the  full  knowledge  which  we  crave,  we  at  least 
should  not  fail  to  crave  it,  and  to  grasp  after  all  of  it  that 
lies  within  our  reach. 

We  have  been  regarding  linguistic  comparison  as  what  it 
primarily  and  essentially  is,  the  effective  means  of  determin- 
ing genetical  relationship,  and  investigating  the  historical  de- 
velopment of  languages.  But  we  must  guard  against  leaving 
the  impression  that  languages  can  be  compared  for  no  other 
purposes  than  these.  In  those  wide  generalizations  wherein 
we  regard  speech  as  a  human  faculty,  and  its  phenomena  as 
illustrating  the  nature  of  mind,  the  processes  of  thought, 
the  progress  of  culture,  it  is  often  not  less  important  to  put 
side  by  side  that  which  in  spoken  language  is  analogous  in 
office  but  discordant  in  origin  than  that  which  is  accordant 
in  both.  The  variety  of  human  expression  is  well-nigh  in- 
finite, and  no  part  of  it  ought  to  escape  the  notice  of  the 
linguistic  student.  The  comparative  method,  if  only  it  be 
begun  and  carried  on  aright — if  the  different  objects  of  tlie 
genetic  and  the  analogic  comparison  be  kept  steadily  in 
view,  and  their  results  not  confounded  w.lh  one  another — • 
need  not  be  restricted  in  its  application,  until,  starting  from 
any  centre,  it  shall  have  comprehended  the  whole  circle  of 
human  speech. 


f49 


LECTUEE  Vll. 

iJeginnings  of  Indo-European  language.  Actuality  of  linguistic  analj'sia. 
Rooi;s,  pronominal  and  verbal ;  their  character  as  the  historical 
germs  of  our  language  ;  development  of  inflective  speech  from  them. 
Production  of  declensional,  conjugational,  and  derivative  apparatus, 
and  of  the  parts  of  speech.  Relation  of  synthetic  and  analytic 
forms.     General  character  and  course  of  inflective  development. 

The  last  two  lectures  liave  given  us  a  view  of  the  Indo- 
nJuropean  family  of  languages.  AYe  have  glanced  at  the 
principal  dialects^  ancient  and  modern,  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed, noticing  their  exceeding  variety  and  the  high  an- 
tiquity of  some  among  them — the  unequalled  sv/eep,  of  time 
and  of  historic  development  together,  which  they  include 
and  cover.  The  family  has  been  shown  to  be  of  preeminent 
importance  and  interest  to  the  linguistic  student,  because 
the  peoples  to  whom  it  belongs  have  taken  during  the  past 
two  thousand  years  or  more  a  leading  or  even  the  foremost 
part  in  the  world's  history,  because  it  includes  the  noblest 
and  most  perfect  instruments  of  human  thought  and  expres- 
sion, and  because  upon  its  study  is  mainly  founded  the 
present  science  of  language.  We  examined,  in  a  general 
way,  the  method  pursued  in  its  investigation — namely,  a 
genetic  analysis,  effected  chiefly  by  the  aid  of  a  widely  ex- 
tended comparison  of  the  kindred  forms  of  related  dialecta 
(whence  the  science  gets  its  familiar  name  of  "comparative 
philology  ") — and  noted  briefly  some  of  the  misapprehen- 
sions and  misapplications  to  which  this  was  liable.  At 
pi-esent,  before  going  on  to  survey  the  other  great  families 


250  HISTORICAL    uiSGINNINGS  [lECT 

of  language,  and  to  consider  the  relation  in  which  they 
stand  to  the  Indo-European,  we  have  to  pause  long  enough 
to  look  at  the  main  facts  in  the  history  of  growth  of  tlie 
latter — of  our  own  form  of  speech,  using  the  word  "  our  " 
in  the  widest  sense  to  which  we  have  as  yet  extended  it. 
This  we  do,  partly  on  account  of  the  intrinsic  interest  of 
the  subject,  and  partly  because  the  results  thus  won  will  be 
found  valuable,  and  even  almost  indispensable,  in  the  course 
of  our  farther  inquiries. 

The  history  of  Indo-European  language  has  been  more 
carefully  read,  and  is  now  more  thoroughly  understood,  than 
that  of  any  other  of  tlie  grand  divisions  of  human  speech. 
Kot  that  our  knowledge  of  it  is  by  any  means  complete,  or 
is  not  marked  even  by  great  and  numerous  deficiencies  and 
obscurities :  owing  in  no  small  part  to  the  obliteration  of 
needed  evidence,  and  hence  irreparable ;  but  in  part  also 
to  incomplete  coniparison  and  analysis  of  the  material  yet 
preserved,  and  therefore  still  admitting  and  sure  ere  long  to 
receive  amendment.  Such  deficiencies,  however,  are  more 
concerned  with  matters  of  minor  detail,  and  less  with  facts 
and  principles  of  fundamental  consequence,  here  than  else- 
where. Hence  the  mode  of  development  of  language  in 
general,  even  from  its  first  commencement,  can  in  no  other 
way  be  so  well  exemplified  as  by  tracing  its  special  history 
in  this  single  family. 

Our  first  inquiry  concerns  the  primitive  stage  of  Indo- 
European  language,  its  historical  beginnings. 

The  general  processes  of  linguistic  growth  and  change,  as 
they  have  for  long  ages  past  been  going  on  in  all  the  dialects 
of  our  kindred,  were  set  forth  and  illustrated  with  some  de- 
tail in  the  early  part  of  our  discussions  respecting  language 
(in  the  second  and  third  lectures).  We  there  saw  that,  in 
order  to  provide  new  thought  and  knowledge  with  its  ap- 
propriate signs,  and  to  repair  the  waste  occasioned  by  the 
loss  of  words  from  use  and  memory,  and  the  constant  wear- 
inof  out  of  forma,  new  combinations  were  made  out  of  old 
materials,  words  of  independent  significance  reduced  to  tho 
position  and  value  of  modifying  a])pcndages  to  other  words, 
and   meanings   variously   altered    and    transferred.       Thew 


VII.]  OF    INDO-EUaOPEAN    LANGUAGE.  251 

processes  may,  for  aught  we  can  see,  work  on  during  an  in- 
definite  period  in  the  future,  with  never-ending  evolution 
out  of  each  given  form  of  speech  of  another  slightly  differ- 
ing from  it ;  even  until  every  now  existing  dialect  shall  have 
divided  into  numerous  descendants,  and  each  of  these  shall 
have  varied  so  far  from  its  ancestor  that  their  kindred  shall 
be  scarcely,  or  not  at  all,  discoverable.  Have  we,  now,  any 
good  reason  to  believe  that  they  have  not  worked  on  thus 
indefinitely  in  the  past  also,  with  a  kaleidoscopic  resolution 
of  old  forms  and  combination  of  new,  changing  the  aspect  of 
lan<2:ua<^e  without  alterinor  its  character  aa  a  structure  ?  Or, 
are  we  able  to  find  distinct  traces  of  a  condition  of  speech 
which  may  be  called  primitive  in  comparison  with  that  in 
which  it  at  present  exists  ? 

This  question  admits  an  affirmative  answer.  The  present 
structure  of  language  has  its  beginnings,  from  which  we  are 
not  yet  so  far  removed  that  they  may  not  be  clearly  seen. 
Our  historical  analysis  does  not  end  at  last  in  mere  obscur- 
ity ;  it  brings  us  to  the  recognition  of  elements  which  we 
must  regard  as,  if  not  the  actual  first  utterances  of  men, 
at  least  the  germs  out  of  which  their  later  speech  has  been 
developed.  It  sets  before  our  view  a  stage  of  expression 
essentially  different  from  any  of  those  we  now  behold  among 
the  branches  of  our  family,  and  serving  as  their  common 
foundation. 

It  must  be  premised  that  this  belief  rests  entirely  upon 
our  faith  in  the  actuality  of  our  analytical  processes,  as 
being  merely  a  retracing  of  the  steps  of  a  previous  synthesis 
— in  the  universal  truth  of  the  doctrine  that  the  elements 
into  which  we  separate  words  are  those  by  the  putting 
together  of  which  those  words  were  at  first  made  up.  The 
grounds  upon  which  such  a  faith  reposes  were  pretty  dis- 
tinctly set  forth  in  the  second  lecture  (p.  66),  but  the  im- 
portance of  the  subject  will  justify  us  in  a  recapitulation  of 
the  argument  there  presented. 

No  one  can  possibly  suppose  that  we  should  ever  have 
come  to  call  our  morning  meal  hreaJcfast,  if  there  had  not 
already  existed  in  our  language  the  two  independent  words 
break  MiAfast ;  any  more  than  that  we  should  say  telegrap1i» 


252  ACTUALITY    OF    THE    PROCESSES  [LECT 

wire,  Jiickory-pole,  cimpaign-document,  gun-boat,  without 
previous  possession  of  the  simple  words  of  which  aie  formed 
tliese  modern  compounds.  Fearful  and  fearless,  in  like 
manner,  imply  the  existence  beforehand  of  the  noun  fear, 
and  of  the  adjectives /kZZ  and  loose,  or  their  older  equivalent:?, 
which  have  assumed,  with  reference  to  that  noun,  the  quality 
of  suffixes.  Nor  should  we  have  any  adverbial  suffix  ly,  if 
we  had  not  earlier  had  the  adjective  like,  nor  any  preterits 
in  d  (as  I  love-d),  but  for  the  fact  that  our  Grermanic  ances- 
tors ow^ned  an  imperfect  corresponding  to  our  did,  which 
they  added  to  their  new  verbs  to  express  past  action.  Any 
one,  I  think,  will  allow  that  elements  distinguishable  by 
word-analysis  which  can  thus  be  identified  with  independent 
words  are  thereby  proved  to  have  been  themselves  once  in 
possession  of  an  independent  status  in  the  language,  and  to 
have  been  actually  reduced  by  combination  to  the  form  and 
office  with  which  our  analysis  finds  them  endow^ed.  But 
farther,  few  or  none  will  be  found  to  question  that  all  those 
formative  elements  which  belons:  to  the  Germanic  lanfruaires 
alone,  of  which  no  traces  are  to  be  discovered  in  any  other 
of  the  branches  of  the  Indo-European  family,  which  consti- 
tute the  peculiar  patrimony  of  some  or  all  of  the  dialects  of 
our  branch,  must  have  been  gained  by  the  latter  since  their 
separation  from  the  common  stock,  and  in  the  same  way 
with  the  rest,  even  though  we  can  no  longer  demonstrate 
the  orifrin  of  each  affix.  With  the  dis^uisinLi:  and  efiacinj; 
effects  of  the  processes  of  linguistic  change  fully  present  to 
our  apprehensions,  we  shall  not  venture  to  conclude  that 
those  cases  in  which  our  historical  researches  fail  to  give 
us  the  genesis  of  both  the  elements  of  a  compound  form  are 
fundamentally  different  from  those  in  which  it  fully  succeeds 
in  doing  so.  The  diiference  lies,  not  in  the  cases  them- 
selves, but  in  our  attitude  toward  them  ;  in  our  accidental 
possession  of  information  as  to  the  history  of  the  one,  and 
our  lack  of  it  as  to  that  of  the  other.  This  reasoning, 
liowever,  obviously  applies  not  to  Germanic  speech  alone  ; 
it  is  equally  legitimate  and  cogent  in  reference  to  all  Indo- 
European  hmguage.  We  cannot  refuse  to  believe  that  the 
whole  history  of  this   family  of  languages  has  been,  in  iti 


m.]  OP   LINGUISTIC    ANALYSIS.  253 

grand  essential  features,  tlie  same  ;  that  their  structure  is 
homogeneous  throughout.  There  is  no  reason  whatever  for 
our  assuming  that  the  later  composite  forms  are  made  up, 
and  not  the  earlier ;  that  the  later  suffixes  are  elaborated 
out  of  independent  elements,  and  not  the  earlier.  So  far 
back  as  we  can  trace  the  history  of  language,  the  forces  V 
which  have  been  efficient  in  producing  its  changes,  and  the 
general  outlines  of  their  modes  of  operation,  have  been  the 
same ;  and  we  are  justified  in  concluding,  we  are  even  com- 
pelled to  infer,  that  they  have  been  the  same  from  the  out- 
set. There  is  no  way  of  investigating  the  first  hidden  steps 
of  any  continuous  historical  process,  except  by  carefully 
studying  the  later  recorded  steps,  and  cautiously  applying 
the  analogies  thence  deduced.  So  the  geologist  studies  tho 
forces  which  are  now  altering  by  slow  degrees  the  form 
and  aspect  of  the  earth's  crust,  wearing  down  the  rocks  here, 
depositing  beds  of  sand  and  pebbles  there,  pouring  out 
floods  of  lava  over  certain  regions,  raising  or  lowering  the 
line  of  coast  along  certain  seas ;  and  he  applies  the  results 
of  his  observations  with  confidence  to  the  explanation  of 
phenomena  dating  from  a  time  to  which  m3n's  imaginations, 
even,  can  hardly  reach.  The  legitimacy  of  the  analogical 
reasoning  is  not  less  undeniable  in  the  one  case  than  in  the 
other.  You  may  as  well  try  to  persuade  the  student  of  the 
earth's  structure  that  the  coal-bearing  rocks  lie  in  parallel 
layers,  of  alternating  materials,  simply  because  it  pleased 
God  to  make  them  so  when  he  created  the  earth  ;  or  that 
the  impressions  of  leaves,  the  stems  and  trunks  of  trees,  the 
casts  of  animal  remains,  shells  and  bones,  which  they  con- 
tain, the  ripple  and  rain-marks  which  are  seen  upon  them, 
are  to  be  regarded  as  the  sports  of  nature,  mere  arbitrary 
characteristics  of  the  formation,  uninterpretable  as  signs  ol 
its  history — as  to  persuade  the  student  of  language  that 
the  indications  of  composition  and  growth  which  he  discovers 
in  the  very  oldest  recorded  speech,  not  less  than  in  the 
latest,  are  only  illusory,  and  that  his  comprehension  of 
linguistic  development  must  therefore  be  limited  to  the 
Btrictly  historical  period  of  the  life  of  language.  It  is  no 
prepossession,  then,  nor  a  priori  theory,  but  a  true  logical 


251i  ROOTS    THK    HEAL    GERM!.  [lECT, 

necessity,  a  sound  induction  from  observed  fact><.  \vhi(.'h 
brings  us  to  the  conclusioa  that  all  linguistic  elements  pos- 
sessing distinct  meaning  and  office,  variously  combined  and 
employed  for  the  uses  of  expression,  are  originally  independ- 
ent entities,  having  a  separate  existence  before  they  entered 
into  mutual  combination. 

In  the  light  of  these  considerations  let  us  examine  a 
single  word  in  our  language,  the  word  irrevocahility.  It 
comes  to  us  from  the  Latin,  where  it  had  the  form  irrevoca- 
hilitas  (genitive  -talis).  It  is  clearly  made  by  the  addition 
of  ///  (fas,  tatis)  to  a  previously  existing  irrevocable  (irrevo- 
cahili-s),  just  as  we  now  form  a  new  abstract  noun  from  any 
given  adjective  by  adding  ness :  for  example,  doughfacedness. 
Again,  rcvocahle  (revocabilis)  preceded  irrevocable,  as  dutiful 
preceded  undutiful.  Further,  if  there  had  been  no  verb  to 
revoke  (revocare),  there  would  have  been  no  adjective  revo- 
cable, any  more  than  lovable  without  the  verb  to  love.  Yet 
once  more  :  although  we  in  English  have  the  syllable  voice 
only  in  composition  with  prefixes,  as  revoke,  evoke,  invoke, 
provoke,  yet  in  Latin,  as  the  verb  vocare,  '  to  call,'  it  is,  of 
course,  older  than  any  of  these  its  derivatives,  as  stand  is 
older  tlian  understand  and  withstand.  Thus  far  our  way  is 
2)erfectly  clear.  But  while,  in  our  language,  voke  appears  as 
a  simpJe  syllable,  uncombined  with  suffixes,  this  is  only  by 
tlio  comparatively  recent  effect  of  the  wearing-out  processes, 
formerly  illustrated  (in  the  third  lecture)  ;  in  the  more 
original  Latin,  it  is  invariably  associated  with  formative  ele- 
ments, which  compose  with  it  forms  like  vocare,  'to  call,' 
vocal,  '  lie  calls,'  vocabar,  '  I  was  called  ; '  or,  in  substantive 
uses,  vocs  {vox),  *  a  calling,  a  voice,'  vocuni,  '  of  voices  ; '  and 
so  on.  There  is  nothing,  so  far  as  concerns  the  formative 
elenioiits  themselves,  to  distini^uish  this  last  class  of  cases 
from  the  olhers,  before  analyzed;  each  suffix  has  its  distinct 
mcnning  and  office,  and  is  applied  in  a  whole  glass  of  analo- 
gous words  ;  and  some  of  them,  at  least,  are  traceable  back 
to  the  independent  words  out  of  which  they  grew.  The 
only  difri'rence  is  that  here,  if  we  cut  ofl'  the  formative  ele- 
ments, we  liave  left,  not  a  word,  actually  employed  as  such 
in   any   ancient   language   of  our  family,  but   a    significant 


VII.]  OP    T4NGUISTIC    DEYELOPMENT.  253 

syllable,  expressing  the  general  and  indeterminate  idea  of 
*  calling,'  and  found  to  occur  in  connected  speech  only  when 
limited  and  defined  by  the  suffixes  which  are  attached  to  it. 
This  is  not,  however,  a  peculiarity  which  can  exempt  the 
words  so  formed  from  a  like  treatment,  leading  to  like  con- 
clusions, with  the  rest ;  we  must  still  trust  in  the  reality  of 
our  analysis  ;  and  especially,  when  we  consider  such  forms 
as  the  Sanskrit  vak-mi,  vak-sJii,  vak-ti,  where  the  mi,  shi,  and 
ti  are  recognizable  pronouns,  making  compounds  which 
mean  clearly  '  call-I,'  '  call-thou,'  *  call-he,'  we  cannot  doubt 
that  the  element  voc  (vak)  had  also  once  an  independent 
status,  that  it  was  a  word,  a  part  of  spoken  speech,  and  that 
the  various  forms  which  contain  it  were  really  produced  by 
the  addition  of  other  elements  to  it,  and  their  fusion  together 
into  a  single  word,  in  the  same  manner  in  which  we  have 
fused  truth  and  full  into  truthful,  truth  and  loose  into  truth 
less,  true  and  like  into  truly. 

The  same  conclusion  may  be  stated  in  more  general  terms, 
as  follows.  The  whole  body  of  suffixes,  of  formative  end- 
ings, is  divided  into  two  principal  classes  :  first,  primary, 
or  such  as  form  derivatives  directly  from  roots ;  second, 
secondary,  or  such  as  form  derivatives  from  other  derivatives, 
from  themes  containing  already  a  formative  element.  But 
the  difference  between  these  two  classes  is  in  their  use  and 
application,  not  in  their  character  and  origin.  No  insigni- 
ficant portion  of  each  is  traceable  back  to  independent  words, 
and  the  presumption  alike  for  each  is  that  in  all  its  parts  it 
was  produced  in  the  same  manner.  If,  then,  we  believe 
that  the  themes  to  which  the  secondary  endings  are  appended 
were  historical  entities,  words  employed  in  actual  speech 
before  their  further  composition,  we  must  believe  the  same 
respecting  the  roots  to  which  are  added  the  primary  end- 
ings :   these  are  not  less  historical  than  the  others. 

The  conclusion  is  one  of  no  small  consequence.  Elements 
like  voc,  each  composing  a  single  syllable,  and  containing  no 
traceable  sign  of  a  formative  element,  resisting  all  our 
attempts  at  reduction  to  a  simpler  form,  are  what  we  arrive 
at  as  the  final  results  of  our  analysis  of  the  Indo-European 
vocabulary ;  every  word  of  which  this  is  made  up — save  1hos9 


256  ORIGINAL    MONOSYLLABISM  [LECT. 

vrhose  history  is  obscure,  and  cannot  be  read  far  back  to- 
ward its  beginning — is  found  to  contain  a  monosyllabic  root 
as  its  central  significant  portion,  along  with  certain  other 
accessory  portions,  syllables  or  remnants  of  syllables,  whose 
office  it  is  to  define  and  direct  the  radical  idea.  The  roots 
arc  never  found  in  practical  use  in  their  naked  form  ;  they 
are  (or,  as  has  been  repeatedly  explained,  have  once  been) 
always  clothed  with  suffixes,  or  with  suffixes  and  prefixes;  - 
yet  they  are  no  mere  abstractions,  dissected  out  by  the 
grammarian's  knife  from  the  midst  of  organisms  of  which 
they  were  ultimate  and  integral  portions ;  they  are  rather 
the  nuclei  of  gradual  accretions,  parts  about  which  ot^ier 
parts  gathered  to  compose  orderly  and  membered  wholes; 
germs,  we  may  call  them,  out  of  w  hich  has  developed  the  in- 
tricate structure  of  later  speech.  And  the  recognition  of 
them  in  this  character  is  an  acknowledgment  that  Indo-Eu- 
ropean language,  with  all  its  fulness  and  inflective  suppleness, 
is  descended  from  an  original  monosyllabic  tongue  ;  that  our 
ancestors  talked  with  one  another  in  single  syllables,  indica- 
tive of  the  ideas  of  prime  importance,  but  wanting  all 
designation  of  their  relations  ;  and  that  out  of  these,  by 
processes  not  diffi^ring  in  their  nature  from  those  Avhich  are 
still  in  operation  in  our  own  tongue,  was  elaborated  the  ; 
marvellous  and  varied  structure  of  all  the  Indo-European  } 
dialects.  ; 

Such  is,  in  fact,  the  belief  which  the  students  of  language    ? 
have  reached,  and  now  hold  with  full  confidence.      New  and     , 
strange  but  a  few  years  ago,  it  commands  at  present  the    | 
assent  of  nearly  all  comparative  philologists,  and  is  fast  be- 
coming a  matter  of  universal  opinion.      Since,  however,  it  is 
etill  doubted  and  opposed  by  a  few  even  amon^  linguistic 
scholars,  and  is  doubtless  more  or  less  unfamiliar  and  start- 
ling  to   a   considerable  part   of  any   educated    community, 
it  will  be  proper  that  we  combine  with  our  examination  of  it 
some  notice  and  refutation  of  the  arguments  by  which  it  is 
assailed. 

It  is  surely  \ninccessary,in  the  first  place,  to  protest  against 
any  one's  taking  umbrage  at  this  theory  of  a  primitive 
monosyllabic  stage  of  Indo-European  language  out  of  regard 


TTI.]  OF   IXDO-EUROPKAN    LANGUAGE.  V57 

for  the  Thonour  avA  dignity  of  our  remote  ancertcrs.  The 
linguist  is  making  a  historical  inquiry  into  the  (.-ondition^s  of 
that  branch  of  the  human  faniily  to  which  we  belong,  and 
eliould  no  more  be  shoched  at  finding  them  talhins:  in  siiioio 
syllables  than  dwelling  in  caves  and  huts  of  branches,  or 
clad  in  leaves  and  skins.  To  lequire,  indeed,  for  man's 
credit  that  he  should  have  beer  .-ent  upon  the  earth  with  a 
fully  developed  language  miraculously  placed  in  his  mouth, 
with  lists  of  nouns,  yerbs,  and  adverbs  stored  away  in 
his  memory,  to  be  drawn  upon  at  will,  ."s  not  more  reasona- 
ble than  to  require  that  the  first  human  beings  should  haye 
been  born  in  full  suits  of  clothes,  and  with  neat  eottages, 
not  destitute  of  well-stocked  larders,  ready  built  over  their 
heads.  It  surely  is  most  of  all  to  the  honour  of  human  na- 
ture  that  man  should  have  been  able,  on  so  humble  a  found- 
ation, to  build  up  this  wondrous  fabric  of  speech  ;  and  also, 
as  we  may  already  say,  that  he  should  have  been  allowed  to 
do  so  is  more  in  accordance  with  tlie  general  plan  of  the 
Creator,  who  haa  endowed  him  with  high  capacities,  and 
left  him  to  work  t.aem  out  to  their  natural  and  intended  re- 
sults. 

jS^or,  again,  will   any  one  venture  to  object  that  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  make  so  imperfect  and  rudimentary 
a   language    answer  any   tolerable    purpose   as   a   micans   of 
expression  ;;nd  communication — any  one,  at  least,  who  knows 
aught  of  the  present  condition  of  language  among  the  other 
races  of  th.e  globe.      One  tongue,  the  Chinese — as  we  shall  \ 
see  more  particularly  farther  on  (in  the  ninth  lecture) — has    \ 
never  advanced  out  of  its  primitive  monosyllabic  stage ;  its     j 
words  remain  even  to  the  present  day  simple  radical  sylla-     / 
bles,  closely  resembling  the  Indo-European  roots,  formless,   / 
not  in  themselves  parts  of  speech,  but  ma;'e  such  only  by 
their  combination  into  sentences,  where  the  connection  and 
the  evident  requirements  of  the  sense  show  in  what  signifi- 
cation and  relation  each  is  used.  Yet  this  scanty  and  crippled 
language  has  served  all  the  needs  of  a  highly  cultivated  and 
literary  people  for  thousands  of  years. 

After  these  few  words  of  reply  to  one  or  two  of  the  difn- 
culties  which  sometimes  suggest  themselves  at  first  blush  to 

17 


258  '  ROOT  J    mONOMH^AL,  AND  [lEOT, 

those  before  wliom  is  brought  the  view  we  are  defending,  we 
will  next  proceed  to  examine  in  more  detail  the  original 
inonosyllabism  of  Indo-European  language,  and  see  of  what 
eliaracter  it  was. 

The  roots  of  our  family  of  languages  are  divided  into  two 
\distinct  classes :  those  ultimately  indicative  of  position 
l^nerely,  and  those  significant  of  action  or  quality.  The 
former  class  are  called  demonstrative  or  pronominal  roots  ; 
the  latter  class  are  styled  predicative  or  verbal  roots. 

The  pronominal  roots  are  subjective  in  their  character; 
they  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  inherent  qualities  of  objects, 
but  mark  them  simply  in  their  relation  to  the  speaker,  and 
primarily  their  local  relation  ;  they  give  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  this  and  the  that^  the  nearer  and  the  remoter 
object  of  attention,  myself  here,  you  there,  and  the  third 
person  or  thing  yonder,  present  or  absent.  By  their  nature, 
they  are  not  severally  and  permanently  attachable  to  certain 
objects  or  classes  of  objects,  nor  are  they  limited  in  their 
application  ;  each  of  them  may  designate  any  and  every 
thing,  according  to  the  varying  relation  sustained  by  the 
latter  to  the  person  or  thing  with  reference  to  which  it  is 
contemplated.  Only  one  thing  can  be  called  the  sun  ;  only 
certain  objects  are  uiJiife ;  but  there  is  nothing  which  may 
not  be  J,  and  i/oit,  and  it,  alternately,  as  the  point  from 
which  it  is  viewed  changes.  In  this  universality  of  their  ap- 
plication, as  dependent  upon  relative  situation  merely,  and 
in  the  consequent  capacity  of  each  of  them  to  designate  any 
object  which  has  its  own  specific  name  besides,  and  so,  in  a 
manner,  to  stand  *for  and  represent  that  other  name,  lies  the 
essential  character  of  the  pronouns.*  From  the  pronominal 
roots  come  most  directly  the  demonstrative  pronouns,  of 
which  the  personal  are  individualized  forms,  and  the  interro- 
gatives  ;  i'rom  these  are  developed  secondarily  the  posscssives 
and  relatives,  and  the  various  other  subordinate  classes. 
They  also  generate  adverbs  of  position  and  of  direction.  To 
examine  in  detail  the  forms  they  take,  and  the  variations  of 

*  Their  llinilu  titlo,  sarrayianinti,  'name  for  evorytliinj;,  universal  desig- 
nation,' is  tliiTclore  more  dircetly  and  fundamentally  characteristic  than  thfl 
one  we  give  them,  pronoun,  ^  standing  for  a  name.' 


VII.]  ROOTS   VERBAL.  259 

the  fundamental  distinction  between  tJiis  and  tJiat  which  they 
are  applied  to  express,  would  lead  us  too  far.  So  much  a? 
this  may  be  pointed  out  :  those  beginning  with  m  are  espe- 
cially employed  to  denote  the  subject,  the  ego,  '  me  myself ; ' 
those  with  t  and  n  are  used  more  demonstratively,  and  those 
with  k  interrogatively.  They  are  few  in  number,  hardly 
counting  a  dozen  all  together,  including  some  which  are  pro- 
bably variants  of  the  same  original.  They  are  of  the  simplest 
phonetic  structure,  consisting  either  of  a  pure  vowel,  like  a 
or  i,  or  of  a  vowel  combined  with  a  single  preceding  conso- 
nant, forming  an  open  syllable,  which  is  the  easiest  that  the 
organs  of  articulation  can  be  called  upon  to  utter  :  instances 
are  ma,  na,  ta,  tu,  ka. 

The  roots  of  the  other  class,  those  of  action  or  quality, 
are  very  much  more  numerous,  being  reckoned  by  hundreds  ; 
and  they  are  of  more  complicated  structure,  illustrating  every 
variety  of  the  syllable,  from  the  pure  single  vowel  to  the 
vowel  preceded  or  followed,  or  both,  by  one  consonant, 
or  even  by  more  than  one.  They  are  of  objective  import, 
designating  the  properties  and  activities  inherent  in  natural 
objects — and  prevailingly  those  that  are  of  a  sensible  pheno- 
menal character,  such  as  modes  of  motion  and  physical 
exertion,  of  sound,  and  so  forth.  Let  us  notice  a  few  in- 
stances of  roots  which  are  shown  to  have  belonged  to  the 
original  language  of  our  family  by  being  still  met  with  in  all 
or  nearly  all  of  its  branches.  Such  are  i  and  ga,  denoting 
simple  motion  ;  ak,  swift  motion  ;  std,  standing  ;  as  and  sad, 
sitting  ;  k'l,  lying  ;  pad,  w^alking  ;  vas,  staying  ;  sak,  follow- 
ing ;  vart,  turning  ;  sarp,  creeping  ;  pat,  flying  ;  plu,  flowing  ; 
ad,  eating ;  pa,  drinking ;  an,  blowing ;  vid,  seeing ;  klu, 
hearing ;  vak,  speaking ;  dhd,  putting ;  da,  giving  ;  labh, 
taking  ;  garhh,  hokliug  ;  dik,  pointing  out  ;  bliar,  bearing ; 
Jear,  making;  tan,  stretching  ;  skid  and  dal,  dividing;  handh, 
binding;  star,  strewing;  par,  filling;  mar,  rubbing;  hha, 
shining  ;  hlul,  growing,  etc.,  etc. 

In  endeavouring  to  apprehend  the  significance  of  these 
roots,  we  must  divest  their  ideas  of  the  definite  forms  of 
conception  which  we  are  accustomed  to  attach  to  them : 
each  represents  its  own  meaning  in  nakedness,  in  an  indeter^ 

17  * 


2  GO  ROOTS.  [LEcrr. 

ininate  condition  from  whicli  it  is  equally  ready  to  take  on 
the  semblance  of  verb  or  of  noun.  AVe  may  rudely  illustrate 
their  quality  by  comparing  them  with  such  a  ^Y0^d  iu  our  own 
language  as  love,  which,  by  the  wearing  off  of  the  formative 
elements  with  which  it  was  once  clothed,  has  reverted  to  tlie 
condition  of  a  bare  root,  and  which  must  therefore  now  be 
placed  in  sucli  connection,  or  so  pregnantly  and  significantly 
littered,  as  to  indicate  to  the  intelligent  and  sympathizing 
listener  in  what  sense  it  is  meant  and  is  to  be  understood 
. — whether  as  verb,  in  "  I  love,''  or  as  substantive,  in  "  my 
love''  or  as  virtual  adjective,  in  "  Zoy<?-letter." 

The  inquiry,  whicb  might  naturally  enough  be  raised  at 
this  point,  how  the  radical  syllables  of  which  we  are  treating 
were  themselves  originated,  and  whether  there  be  any 
natural  and  necessary  connection  between  them,  or  any  of 
them,  and  tlie  ideas  which  they  represent,  sucb  as  either 
necessitated  or  at  least  recommended  the  allotment  of  the 
particular  sign  to  the  particular  conception,  we  must  pas3 
by  for  the  present,  having  now  to  do  only  with  that  for 
which  direct  evidence  is  to  be  found  in  language  itself,  with 
the  historically  traceable  beginnings  of  Indo-European 
speech  ;  this  question,  with  its  various  dependent  questions 
of  a  more  theoretical  and  recondite  nature,  is  reserved  for  con- 
sideration at  a  later  time  (in  the  eleventh  lecture). 

It  deserves  to  be  renewedly  urged  that,  in  this  account 
of  the  primitive  stage  of  Indo-Europoan  language,  there  is 
nothing  which  is  not  the  result  of  strict  and  careful  induc- 
tion from  the  facts  recorded  in  the  dialects  of  the  different 
members  of  the  family.  No  one's  theory  as  to  what  the 
beginnings  of  language  must  have  been,  or  might  naturally 
have  been  expected  to  be,  has  had  anything  to  do  with 
shaping  it.  It  has  been  a  matter  of  much  controversy 
among  linguistic  thcorizers  what  parts  of  s])eech  languago 
began  with  ;  whether  nouns  or  verbs  were  the  first  words ; 
but  I  am  not  aware  that  any  acute  thinker  ever  devised, 
upon  a  priori  grounds,  a  theory  at  all  closely  agreeing  with, 
the  account  of  tlie  matter  at  which  comparative  philoloii:y 
BOOQ  arrived  through  her  historical  researches.  That  tho 
first  traceable  linguistic  entities  are  nut  names  of  concreM 


i 


VII.]  ROOTS.  261 

objects,  but  designate  actions,  motions,  pbenomenal  condi 
tions,   is  a  truth  resting   on  authority    that    overrides    ail 
preconceived  theories  and  subjective  opinions.     How  far  and 
vhy  it  is  accordant  v.ith  what  a  sound  theory,  founded  on 
our  general  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  human  speech, 
would  teach,  and  is  therefore  entitled  to  be  accepted  as  a 
satisfactory  explanation  of  the  way  in  which  men  began  to 
talk,  we  shall  inquire  in  the  lecture  devoted  to  such  subjects. 
Thus  is  it,  also,  as  regards  the  division  of  the  roots  into 
two   classes,   pronominal    and    verbal :    this    division   is    sc 
clearly  read  in  the  facts  of   language  that  its    acceptance 
cannot  be  resisted.     Some  are  loth  to  admit  it,  and  strive 
to  find  a  higher  unity  in  which  it  shall  disappear,  the  two 
classes  falling  together  into  one  ;  or  to  show  how  the  pro- 
nominal   may  be   relics   of    verbal  roots,    worn    down    by 
linguistic  usage  to  such  brief  form  and  unsubstantial   sig- 
nificance ;  but  their  eff'orts  must  at  least  be  accounted  alto- 
gether unsuccessful  hitherto,   and  it   is   very  questionable 
whether   they   are   called  for,  or  likely  ever  to  meet  with 
success.     As  regards  the  purposes  of  our  present  inquiry, 
the  double  classification  is  certainly  primitive  and  absolute ; 
back  to  the  very  earliest  period  of  which  linguistic  analysis 
gives  us  any  knowledge,  roots  verbal  and  roots  pronominal 
are  to  be  recognized  as    of  wholly  independent  substance, 
character,  and  office. 

But,  it  may  very  properly  be  asked,  how  do  we  know  that 
the  roots  which  we  have  set  up,  and  the  others  like  them, 
are  really  ultimate  and  original  ?  why  may  they  not  be  the 
results  of  yet  more  ancient  processes  of  linguistic  change^ 
like  love  and  lie,  and  so  many  others,  which  have  been  re- 
peatedly cited,  and  shown  to  have  taken  in  our  language  the 
place  of  earlier  complicated  forms,  such  as  lagamasi  and 
laganti  ?  how  should  they  be  proved  different  from  our  word 
count,  for  example,  which  we  treat  like  an  original  root,  ex- 
panding it  by  means  of  suffixes  into  various  forms — as  he 
counts,  they  counted,  counting,  counter,  countahle — while  yet 
it  is  only  a  modern  derivative  from  a  Latin  compound  i  erb 
containing  a  preposition,  namely  computare,  '  to  think  to- 
gether, combine  in  thought,'  got  through  the  medium  of  th© 


262  ARE    THE    KNOWN    ROOTS  [lECT, 

Prench   compter  (where  the  p  is  still  written,  though   not 
pronounced) — in  fact,  the  same  word  as  the  evidently  made- 
up  compute  ?      Of  apparent   monosyllabic  verbal  roots  like 
this,  which  are  readily  proved  by  a  little  historical  study  to 
be  of  polysyllabic  oriiijin,  or  to  contain  the  relics  of  forma 
live    processes,  our   language  contains   no  small    number  : 
other  instances  SlYQ  preach  iroxn  pre-dicare,  vend  from  venum- 
dare,  blame  from  Greek  blas-phemein ;  don  and  doff  from  do 
on  and  do  off ;   learn,  of  which  the  ti  is  a  passive  ending, 
added  to  lere,    '  teach,'   whence   comes  lore,  '  doctrine ; '  to 
throng,   a   denominative    from    the    noun     throng,  Avhich    is 
derived  from  thring  (Anglo-Saxon  thringaii),  'press,'  lost  in 
our  modern  use  (as  if  we  were  to  lose  sing,  and  substitute 
for  it  to  song,  from  the  derived  noun  song)  ;  to  blast,  a  like 
denominative  from  blast,  a  derivative  from  blcesan,  '  to  blow, 
blare  ; '  and  so  on.      Such  are  to  be  found  also  abundantly 
in  other  languages,  modern  and  ancient ;  why  not  as  well 
among  the  alleged  Indo-European  roots  ?     Now  there  c^n 
be  no  question  whatever  that   such  additions  to  the   stock 
of  verbal  expression  have  been  produced  at  every  period  of 
the  growth  of  language,  not  only  throughout  its  recorded 
career,  but  also  in  times  beyond  the  reach  of  historic  analy- 
sis.     There  is  not  a  known  dialect  of  our  family  which  does 
not  exhibit  a  greater  or  less  number  of  seeming  roots  pecu- 
liar to  itself ;  and  of  these  the  chief  part  may  be  proved,  or 
are  to  be  assumed,  to  be  of  secondary  origin,  and  not  at  all 
entitled  to  lay  claim  to  the  character  of  relics  from  the  ori- 
ginal b'tock,  lost  by  the  sister  dialects.     Even  the  Sanskrit, 
upon  which  we  have  mainly  to  rely  for  our  restoration  of 
Indo-European  roots,  possesses   not  a  few  which  are  such 
only   iu   seeming,    which   are   of  special    Aryan    or    Indian 
growth,  and  valueless  for  the  construction  of  general  Imlo- 
European  etymologies.     And,  yet  farther,  among  those  very 
radical  syllables  whose  presence  in  the  tongues  of  all  the 
branches  proves  them  a  possession  of  the  original  commu- 
nity before  its  dispersion,  there  are  some  which  show  the 
clearest  signs  of  secondary  formation.    As  a  single  example, 
let   us   take   the   root  7nan,  'think'  (in  Ijntiii  me-min-i,  moti» 
eOj  mens  ;  Greek  men-oSj  man-tU  ;  Lithuanian  men-u  ;   Moeso* 


ni.]  ABSOLUTELY  ORIGINAL  ?  263 

Grothic  man,  G-erman  mein-en,  our  I  mean)  :  distinct  iiLalo- 
gies  lead  us  to  see  in  it  a  development — probably  througli  a 
derivative  noun,  of  which  it  is  the  denominative — of  the 
older  root  md,  meaning  either  '  to  make  '  or  '  to  measure  ; " 
a  designation  for  the  mental  process  having  been  won  by 
figuratively  regarding  it  as  a  mental  manufacture  or  produc- 
tion, or  else  as  an  ideal  mensuration  of  the  object  of  thought, 
a  passing  from  point  to  point  of  it,  in  estimation  of  its 
dimension  and  quality.  Some  liuguistic  scholars  go  mucl* 
farther  than  others  in  their  attempts  at  analyzing  the  Indo- 
European  roots,  and  referring  them  to  more  primitive  ele- 
ments ;  all  the  methods  of  secondary  origin  which  we  have 
illustrated  above  have  been  sought  for  and  thought  to  be 
recognized  among  them ;  and  there  are  those  who  are  un- 
willing to  believe  that  any  absolutely  original  root  can  have 
ended  otherwise  than  in  a  vowel,  or  becjun  with  more  than 
a  single  consonant,  and  who  therefore  regard  all  radical 
syllables  not  conforming  with  their  norm  as  the  product  of 
composition  or  fusion  with  formative  elements.  We  need 
not  here  enter  into  the  question  as  to  the  justice  of  these 
extreme  views,  or  a  criticism  of  the  work  of  the  root- 
analysts  ;  we  are  compelled  at  any  rate  to  concede  that  the 
results  of  orowth  are  to  be  seen  amone:  even  the  earliest 
traceable  historical  roots  ;  that  we  must  be  cautious  how  w^e 
claim  ultimateness  for  any  given  radical  syllable,  unless  we 
can  succeed  in  establishing  an  ultimate  and  necessary  tie 
between  it  and  the  idea  it  represents  ;  and  that  the  search 
after  the  absolutely  original  in  human  speech  is  a  task  of 
the  most  obscure  and  recondite  character. 

But  these  concessions  do  not  impair  our  claim  that  the 
inflective  structure  of  Indo-European  speech  is  built  up 
upon  a  historical  foundation  of  monosyllabic  roots.  If  the 
particular  roots  to  which  our  analysis  brings  us  are  not  in 
all  cases  the  products  of  our  ancestors'  first  attempts  at 
articulation,  they  are  at  any  rate  of  the  same  kind  with 
these,  and  represent  to  us  the  incipient  stage  of  speech.  If 
in  every  dissyllable  whose  history  we  can  trace  we  recognize 
a  compound  structure,  if  in  every  nominal  and  verbal  form 
we  Hud  a  formative  element  which   gives  it  character    aa 


26*  ROOTS    THE    GERMS  [LECT. 

noun  or  verb,  tlien  we  must  believe  tbat  the  germs  out  of 
which  our  language  grew  were  not  more  complicated  than 
single  syllables,  and  that  they  possessed  no  distinct  ciiarac- 
ter  as  nouns  or  verbs,  but  were  equally  convertible  into  both. 
Our  researches  are  only  pointed  a  step  farther  back,  without 
a  change  of  method  or  result.  That  in  these  roots  we 
approach  very  near  to,  if  we  do  not  quite  touch,  the  actual 
beginnings  of  speech,  is  proved  by  other  considerations.  In 
order  to  bring  into  any  language  new  apparent  roots,  and 
give  them  mobility  by  clothing  them  with  inflections,  a 
system  of  inflections  must  have  been  already  elaborated  by 
use  with  other  roots  in  other  forms.  We  cannot  apply  our 
d  as  sign  of  the  imperfect  tense  to  form  such  words  as  I 
electrified,  I  telegraphed,  until  we  have  Avorkcd  down  our 
preterit  c/iJ,  in  substance  and  meaning,  to  such  a  mere  form- 
ative element.  And  when  we  have  traced  the  suffix  back 
until  we  find  it  identical  with  tlie  independent  word  out  of 
which  it  grew,  we  know  that  we  are  close  upon  the  begin- 
ning of  its  use,  and  have  before  us  virtually  that  condition 
of  the  language  in  which  its  combinations  were  first  made. 
So  also  with  the  adverbial  suffix  Zy,  when  we  have  followed 
it  up  to  lice,  a  case  of  the  adjective  lie,  'like.'  Now,  in 
connection  with  the  roots  of  which  examples  have  been  given 
above,  we  see  in  actual  process  of  elaboration  the  general 
system  of  Indo-European  inflection,  the  most  ancient, 
fundamental,  and  indispensable  part  of  our  grammatical 
app;\ratUo  ;  and  we  infer  that  these  roots  and  their  like  are 
the  foundation  of  our  speech,  the  primitive  material  out  of 
which  its  high  and  complicated  fabric  has  been  reared.  It 
is  not  possible  to  regard  them  as  the  worn-down  relics  of  a 
previous  career  of  inflective  development.  The  English,  it 
is  true,  has  been  long  tending,  through  the  excessive  preva- 
lence of  the  wearing-out  processes,  toward  a  state  of  flec- 
tionless  monos^'llabism  ;  but  such  a  monosyllabism,  wliere  the 
grammatical  categories  are  fully  distinguished,  where  rela- 
tional words  and  connectives  abound,  where  every  vocable 
inherits  the  character  which  the  former  possession  of  inflec- 
tion has  given  it,  Avhere  groups  of  related  terms  are  ap])lied 
to  related  uses,  is  a  very  diflerent  thing  from  a  primitive 


VII.]  OF    INFLECl'IONAL    GROWTH.  265 

monosyllabbm  like  that  to  which  tlie  linguistic  analyst  is 
conducted  by  his  researches  among  the  earliest  representa- 
tives of  Indo-European  language ;  and  he  finds  no  more 
difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  one  from  the  other,  and 
recognizing  the  true  character  of  each,  than  does  the  geolo- 
gist in  distinguishing  a  primitive  crystalline  formation  from 
a  conglomerate,  composed  of  well-worn  pebbles,  of  diverse 
origin  and  composition,  and  containing  fragments  of  earlier 
and  later  fossils.  If  the  English  were  strictly  reduced  to 
its  words  of  one  syllable,  it  would  still  contain  an  abundant 
repertory  of  developed  parts  of  speech,  expressing  every 
variety  of  idea,  and  illustrating  a  rich  phonetic  system.  . 
The  Indo-European  roots  are  not  parts  of  speech,  but  of  \ 
indeterminate  character,  ready  to  be  shaped  into  nouns  and  ^^ 
verbs  by  the  aid  of  affixes  ;  they  are  limited  in  signification 
to  a  single  class  of  ideas,  the  physical  or  sensual,  the  phe- 
nomenal, out  of  which  the  intellectual  and  moral  develop 
themselves  by  still  traceable  processes ;  and  in  them  is 
repi'esented  a  system  of  articulated  sounds  of  great  sim- 
plicity. It  will  be  not  uninstructive  to  set  down  here,  for 
comparison  with  the  spoken  alphabet  of  our  modern  Eng- 
lish, already  given  (see  p.  91),  that  scanty  scheme  of  articu- 
lations, containing  but  three  vowels  and  twelve  consonants, 
which  alone  is  discoverable  in  the  earliest  Indo-European, 
language  ;  it  is  as  follows  : 
^  a 


u 


Vowels. 


hr 

Semivowel. 

n 

m 

Nasals. 

h* 

Aspiration. 

s 

Sibilant. 

9 
k 

d 
t 

h 
V 

1    Mutes. 

« 


The  aspiration  is  not  founti  as  a  separate  letter,  but  only  in  close  cora- 
binatiou  with  the  mutes,  forming  the  aspirated  mutes  gh,  dh,  bh,  and  (probably 
ty  later  deveUDpnien'"!  kh^  th^  ph.  Tlese  aspirates,  though  historically  they 
ai?  independent  and  important  members  of  the  system  of  spoken  sounds,  I 
base  not  givt-n  separately  in  the  scheme,  because  plionetically  they  are  com- 
pound, couLainiug  tl  e  aspiration  as  a  distiuctiy  audible  element  following 
the  mute. 


I 


266  DEVELOPMENT    OF    SPEECH.  [LECT. 

These  are  the- sounds  which  are  distmguished  from  one 
another  by  the  most  marked  differences,  which  our  organs 
most  readily  utter,  and  which  are  most  universally  found  in 
human  speech  :  all  others  are  of  later  origin,  having  grown 
out  of  these  in  the  course  of  the  phonetic  changes  which 
words  necessarily  undergo,  as  they  pass  from  one  genera- 
tion's keeping  to  another's.  Our  race  has  learned,  as  we 
may  truly  express  it,  by  long  ages  of  practice,  of  both  mouth 
and  ear,  what  the  child  now  learns,  by  imitation  and  in- 
struction, in  a  few  months  or  years :  namely,  to  add  to  its 
first  easy  utterances  others  more  nicely  differentiated,  and 
produced  by  a  greater  effort  of  the  organs.  In.  like  man- 
ner, starting  from  the  mere  rudiments  of  expression  in 
radical  monosyllables,  the  tribes  of  our  family  have  acquired, 
through  centuries  and  thousands  of  years  of  effort,  the  dis- 
tinction and  designation  of  innumerable  shades  of  meaning, 
the  recognition  and  representation  of  a  rich  variety  of 
relations,  in  the  later  wealth  of  their  inflective  tongues — 
resources  which,  being  once  won,  the  child  learns  to  wield 
dexterously  e\en  before  he  is  full  grown.  It  will  be  our 
next  task  to  review  the  steps  by  which  our  language  ad- 
vanced out  of  its  primitive  monosyllabic  stage,  by  which  it 
acquired  the  character  of  inflective  speech.  To  follow  out 
the  whole  process  in  detail  would  be  to  construct  in  full 
the  comparative  grammar  and  history  of  the  Indo-European 
dialects — a  task  vastly  too  great  for  us  to  grapple  with  here  ; 
we  can  only  direct  our  attention  to  some  of  the  principal 
and  characteristic  features  of  the  development. 

The  lirst  beginning  of  polysyllabism  seems  to  have  been 
made  by  compounding  together  roots  of  the  two  classes 
already  described,  pronominal  and  verbal.  Thus  were  ])ro- 
duced  true  forms,  in  which  the  indeterminate  radical  idea 
received  a  definite  significance  and  application.  The  addi- 
tion, for  example,  to  the  verbal  root  vak,  '  speaking,'  of 
pronominal  elements  mi,  si,  ti  (these  are  the  earliest  histori- 
cally traceable  forms  of  the  endings :  they  were  probably 
yet  earlier  via,  sa,  t(f),  in  which  ideas  of  the  nearer  and 
remoter  relation,  of  the  first,  second,  and  third  j^ersons,  were 
ali-eady   distinguished,  produced  combinations  vakmi,  vakai^ 


VII.]  GROWTH    OF   VERBAL    FORMS.  267 

valcti,  to  w'lilcli  usage  assigned  the  meaning  '  I  here  speak,' 
*  thou  there  speakest,'  '  he  yonder  speaks,'  laying  in  them 
the  idea  of  predication  or  assertion,  the  essential  character- 
istic Avhich  makes  a  verb  instead  of  a  noun,  just  as  v.  e  put 
the  same  into  the  ambiguous  element    love,  when  we  say  1 
love.      Other     pronominal   elements,    mainly    of   compound 
form,  indicating  plurality  of  subject,  made  in  like  manner 
the  three  persons  of  the  plural :   they  were  masi  {ma-si,  '  I- 
thou,'  i.e.  'we'),  tasi  (ta-si,  '  he-thou,'  i.e.  'ye'),  and  anti 
(of  more  doubtful  genesis).      A  dual  number  of  the  same 
three  persons  was  likewise  added  ;  but  the  earliest  form  and 
derivation  of  its  endings  cannot  be  satisfactorily  made  out. 
Thus  was  produced  the  first  verbal  tense,  the  simplest  and 
most  immediate  of  all    derivative  forms    from  roots.      The 
various  shaj)es  which  its  endings  have  assumed  in  the  later 
languages  of  the  family  have  already  more  than  once  been 
referred  to,  in  the  way  of  illustration  of  the  processes  of 
linguistic  growth  :   our  th  or  s,  in  he  gocth  or  goes,  still  dis- 
tinctly represents  the  ti  of  the  third  person  singular  ;  and 
\    in  am  we  have  a  solitary  relic  of  the  mi  of  the  first.      Doubt- 
less the  tense  was  employed  at  the   outset  as  general  pre- 
dicative form,  being  neither  past,  present,  nor  future,  but 
all  of  them  combined,  and  doing  duty  as  either,  according 
as  circumstances   required,    and  as    sense    and    connection 
explained  ;  destitute,  in   short,   of  any   temporal  or  modal 
character ;  but  other  verbal  forms  by   degrees  grew  out  of 
it,  or  allied  themselves  with  it,  assuming  the  designation  of 
other  modifications  of  predicative  meaning,  and  leaving  to 
it  the  office  of  an  indicative  present.      The  prefixion  of  a 
pronominal  adverb,  a  or  n,  the  so-called  "  augment,"  point- 
ing to  a  '  there  '  or  '  then  '  as  one  of  the  conditions  of  the 
action   signified,  produced  a  distinctively   past    or   preterit 
tense.     Although  only  very  scanty  and  somewhat  dubious 
traces  of  such  an  augment-preterit  (aorist  or  imperfect)  are 
found  in  any  languages  of  the  family  beside  the  Aryan  and 
the  Greek,  it  is  looked  upon  as  an  original  formation,  once 
ishared  by   them   all.      Again,  the   repetition   of  the    root, 
either  complete,  or  by  "  reduplication,"   as  we  term  it,  the 
repetition  of  its  initial  part,  was  made  to  indicate  symboli* 


2G8  GROWTH    OF  [lEOT. 

cally  tL(;  completion  of  the  action  signified  by  tlie  root,  and 
furnished  another  past  tense,  a  perfect :  for  example,  from 
the    root  dd^    '  give,'    Sanskrit  tladdu,   Greek  dedOka,   Latin 
dedl ;    from   dlid,   '  put,   make,'    Greek    tethcika.    Old   High- 
German  Uta^  Anglo-Saxon  dide,  our  did.     This  reduplicated 
perfect,  as  is  well  known,  is  a  regular  part  of  the  scheme  of 
Greek  conjugation  ;  in  the  Latin,  not  a  few   of  the  oldest 
verbs   show  the  same,  in  full,  or  in  more  or  less  distinct 
traces ;  the  Moeso- Gothic  has  preserved  it  in  a  considerable 
number  of  verbs  (for  example,  in  haihald,  '  held,'  from  JiaJdan, 
*  hold  ;  '  saislep,  '  slept,'  from  shjpan,  '  sleep  ')  ;  in  the  other 
Germanic  dialects  it  is  nearly  confined   to  the  single  word 
X  did,  already    quoted.       Moods  were  added  by   degrees  :    a 
conjunctive,  having  for  its  sign  a  union-vowel,  a,  interposed 
between  root  and  endings,  and  bearing  perliaps  a  symbolical 
meaning  ;  and  an  optative,  of  which  the  sign  is  i  or  ia  in  the 
same   position,  best   explained  as   a  verbal   root,    meaning 
'  wish,  desire.'     From  this  optative  descends  the  "  subjunc- 
tive "  of  all  the  Germanic    dialects.      The    earliest    future 
appears  to  have  been  made  by  compounding  with  the  root 
the  already  developed  optative  of  the  verb  '  to  he,'^s-ifd-mi ^  '' 
for  '  I  shall  call,'  then,  the  language  literally  said  '  I  may  be 
calling'  (vak-s-i/d-mi) .     Of  primitive  growth,  too,  was  a  re- 
flexive or  "  middle  "  voice,  characterized  by  an  extension  of 
tlie  personal  endings,  which  is  most  plausibly  explained  as  a 
repetition  of  them,  once  as  subject  and  once  as  object :  thus, 
vak-mai,  for  vak-ma-mi,  '  call-1-me,'  i.e.  '  I  call  myself:  '   it    | 
was  also  soon  employed  in  a  passive  sense,  '  I  am  called  ' —    ' 
as  reflexives,  of  various  age  and  form,  have  repeatedly  been 
80  employed,  or  have  been  converted  into  distinct  passives, 
in  the  history  of  Indo-Euro[)ean  language.*      Other  secoiul- 
ary   forms  of  the    verb,  as  intensives,  desideratives,    causa- 
tives,  were    created  by   various   modifications   of  the   root, 
or  compositions   with  other  rootji ;  yet  such  verbal  deriva- 
tives  have    played  only  a  subordinate  part  in  the  develop- 

•  Tho   Ti.uin  pussivo,  for  instance,  is  of  i(-fli'xivo  orijjin,  as  is  that  of  the 
Sf'iiniliiiiniaii   (icrnianic  diahcts.     Anioiiir  iiuxUru    Kuropoaii   toii;;urs,    the 
Italian  is  especially  notici-ablc  for  its  familiar  use  of   reHexive  phrases  in  a    a 
passive  seusc  :  thus,  ni  dice,  '  it  sa^s  itscli,'  lor  '  it  ia  said.' 


ni.J  VERBAL  FORMS.  269 

ment  of  tlie  languages  of  our  family,  and  need  not  be  dwelt 
upon  here.  Of  more  consequence  is  tlie  frequent  formation 
of  a  special  theme  for  the  present  tense,  to  which  was  then 
added  a  corresponding  imperfect,  made  by  means  of  tha 
augment.  This  was  accomplished  in  various  ways :  either 
by  vowel-increment  (as  in  Greek  leipo,  from  lijp,  '  leave '), 
by  reduplication  (as  in  Greek  daddmi^  from  da :  the  repeti- 
tion of  the  root  doubtless  indicated  repetition  or  continuity 
of  the  action),  or  by  the  addition  or  even  insertion  of  form- 
ative elements  (as  in  Greek  deiknumi  from  diJc,  '  point  out,* 
Sanskrit  yunajmi  from  yuj,  'join;'  Greek  gignosco,  Latin 
gnosco,  from  gnd^  '  know ')  ;  these  last  are,  at  least  in  part, 
noun-suffixes,  and  the  forms  they  make  are  by  origin  de- 
nominatives. 

Of  this  system  of  primitive  verbal  forms,  produced  before 
the  separation  of  the  family  into  branches,  almost  every 
branch  has  abandoned  some  part,  while  each  has  also  new 
forms  of  its  own  to  show,  originated  partly  for  supplying  the 
place  of  that  which  was  lost,  partly  in  order  to  fill  up  the 
scheme  to  greater  richness,  and  capacity  of  nicer  and  more 
varied  expression.  The  Greek  verb  is,  among  them  all,  the 
most  copious  in  its  wealth,  the  most  subtle  and  expressive 
in  its  distinctions :  it  has  lost  hardly  anythiiig  that  was 
original,  and  has  created  a  host  of  new  forms,  some  of  which 
greatly  tax  the  ingenuity  of  the  comparative  pliilologist  who 
would  explain  their  genesis.  The  Latin  follows  not  very 
far  behind,  having  made  up  its  considerable  losses,  and  sup- 
plied some  new  uses,  by  combinations  of  secondary  growth : 
such  are  its  imperfect  in  ham,  its  future  in  ho,  and  its  deri- 
vative perfects  in  ui  and  si,  in  all  of  which  are  seen  the 
results  of  composition  with  the  roots  of  the  substantive 
verb.  Both  these  are  greatly  superior  to  the  Sanskrit,  in 
copiousness  of  forms,  and  in  preciseness  of  their  application. 
The  Germanic  verb  was  reduced  at  one  period  almost  to  tlie 
extreme  of  poverty,  having  saved  only  the  ancient  present, 
which  was  used  also  in  the  sense  of  a  future,  and  a  preterit, 
the  modern  representative  of  the  original  reduplicated  per- 
fect ;  each  of  the  two  tenses  having  also  its  subjunctive 
mood.     The  existing  dialects  of  the  branch  have  supplied  a 


270  GROWTH  OF  NOUNS  [lECT. 

host  of  new  expressions  for  tense  and  mood  by  tlie  extensive 
employment  of  auxiliaries,  whicl],  in  tlieir  way,  afford  an  ad 
mirable  analytic  substitute  for  the  old  synthetic  forms.  To 
trace  out  and  describe  in  lull  the  history  of  the  Indo- 
European  verb,  in  these  and  in  the  other  branches  of  the 
family,  showing  the  contractions  and  expansions  v;hich 
it  has  undergone,  down  even  to  such  recent  additions  as  the 
future  of  the  Eomanic  tongues,  and  our  own  preterit  in  d 
(the  reason  and  method  of  whose  creation  have  been  ex- 
plained above,  in  the  third  lecture),  would  be  a  most  inter- 
esting and  instructive  task  ;  but  it  is  one  which  we  may  not 
venture  here  to  undertake. 

To  follow  back  to  its  very  beginnings  the  genesis  of  nouns, 
and  of  the  forms  of  nouns,  is  much  more  difficult  than  to 
explain  the  origin  of  verbal  forms.  Some  nouns — of  which 
th.e  Latin  vox  (roc-s),  *a  calling*  a  \o\ce,'  and  rex  {reos), 
'  one  ruling,  a  king,'  are  as  familiar  examples  as  any  within 
our  reach — are  produced  directly  from  the  roots,  by  the  ad- 
dition of  a  different  system  of  inflectional  endings  ;  the  idea 
of  substantiation  or  impersonation  of  the  action  expressed 
by  the  root  being  arbitrarily  laid  in  them  by  usage,  as  was 
the  idea  of  predication  in  the  forms  of  the  verb.  The  two 
wordr^  we  have  instanced  may  be  taken  as  typical  examples 
of  the  two  classes  of  derivatives  coming  most  immediaiely 
and  naturally  from  t1ie  root:  the  one  indicating  the  action 
itself,  the  other,  either  adjectively  or  substantively,  the 
actor ;  the  one  being  of  the  nature  of  an  infinitive,  or  ab- 
stract verbal  noun,  the  other  of  a  participle,  or  verbal  adjec- 
tive, easily  convertible  into  an  appellative.  Even  such 
derivatives,  however,  as  implying  a  greater  modification  of 
tlie  radical  idea  than  is  exhibited  by  the  simplest  verbal 
forms,  appear  to  have  been  from  the  first  mainly  made  by 
means  of  formative  elements,  suffixes  of  derivation,  compara- 
ble with  those  which  belong  to  the  moods  and  tenses,  and 
the  secondary  conjugations  of  the  verb.  Precisely  what 
these  suffixes  were,  in  their  origin  aiul  primitive  substance 
and  what  were  the  steps  of  the  process  by  which  they  lost 
their  indei)endence,  and  acquired  their  peculiar  value  as 
modifying  elements,  it  is  not  in  most  cases  feasible  to  tell 


I 


Til.]  AND   DECLENSIONAL   FORMS.  271 

But  thej  were  obviously  in  great  part  of  pronOiHinal  origin, 
and  in  the  acts  of  linguistic  usage  which  stantped  upon 
them  their  distinctive  value  there  is  mucli  which  would 
e^eeni  abrupt,  arbitrary,  or  even  perhaps  inconceivable,  to  ono 
Avho  has  not  been  taught  by  extensive  studies  among  various 
tongues  how  violent  and  seemingly  far-fetched  are  the  muta- 
tions and  transfers  to  whicli  the  material  of  linguistic  struc- 
ture is  often  submitted — on  how  remote  an  analosfv,  how 
obscure  a  suggestion,  a  needed  name  or  form  is  sometimes 
founded.  Verbal  roots,  as  well  as  pronominal,  were  cer- 
tainly also  pressed  early  into  the  same  service  :  composition 
of  root  with  root,  of  derived  form  with  form,  the  formation 
of  derivative  from  derivative,  went  on  actively,  producing  in 
sufficient  variety  the  means  of  limitation  and  individualiza- 
tion of  the  indeterminate  radical  idea,  of  its  reduction 
to  appellative  condition,  so  as  to  be  made  capable  of  desig- 
nating by  suitable  names  the  various  beings,  substances,  acts, 
states,  and  qualities,  observed  both  in  the  world  of  matter 
and  in  that  of  mi  rid. 

This  class  of  derivatives  from  roots  was  provided  with 
another,  a  movable,  set  of  suffixes,  which  we  call  case-end- 
ings, terminations  of  declension.  "Where,  as  in  the  case  of 
our  two  examples  voa:  and  rex,  the  theme  of  declension  was 
coincident  with  the  verbal  root,  the  declensional  endino^s 
them.selves  were  sufficient  to  mark  the  distinction  of  noun 
from  verb,  without  the  aid  of  a  suffix  of  derivation.  They 
formed  a  large  and  complicated  system,  and  were  charged 
with  the  designation  of  various  relations.  In  the  first  place, 
they  indicated  case,  or  the  kind  of  relation  sustained  by  the 
noun  to  which  they  were  appended  to  the  principal  action  of 
the  sentence  in  which  it  was  used,  whether  as  subject,  as  di- 
rect object,  or  as  indirect  object  with  implication  of  meanings 
which  we  express  by  means  of  prepositions,  such  as  with,  from, 
in,  of.  Of  cases  thus  distinguished  there  were  seven.  Three 
of  them  distinctly  indicated  local  relations:  the  ablative  (of 
v.hich  the  earliest  traceable  form  has  t  or  d  for  its  endinef : 
thus,  Sanskrit  agvdt,  Old  Latin  equod,  '  from  a  horse ') 
A —  +ed  the  relation  expressed  hj  Jrom  ;  the  locative  Cwith 
ading  i),  that  expressed  by  in ;  the  instrumental  (with 


272  GROWTH    OF  [lECI, 

the  ending  «),  that  expressed  by  witli,  or  ly — the  idea  of 
adjacency  or  accompaniment  passing  naturally  into  that  of 
means,  instrument,  or  cause.  Two  cases,  the  dative  and 
genitive,  designated  relations  of  a  less  physical  character : 
the  former  (with  the  ending  ai)  we  should  render  by ybr  be- 
fore the  noun  ;  the  latter  (its  ending  is  asyaov  as)  expressed 
general  pertinence  or  possession.  Then  the  accusative  (with 
the  sign  on)  assumed  the  office  of  indicating  the  directest 
dependent  relation,  that  which  even  with  us  is  expressed 
without  the  aid  of  a  preposition — the  objective — as  well  as 
ythat  most  immediate  relation  of  motion  which  we  signify  by 
{ to.  The  nominative,  finally,  has  also  its  ending,  5,  in  the 
presence  of  which  is  strikingly  exhibited  the  tendency  of 
the  earliest  Indo-European  language  to  make  every  vocable 
a  true  form,  to  give  to  every  theme,  in  every  relation,  a  sign 
of  its  mode  of  application,  a  formative  element.  Besides 
these  seven  proper  cases,  the  vocative  or  interjectional  case, 
the  form  of  address,  also  makes  a  part  of  the  scheme  of  de- 
clension ;  it  has  no  distinctive  ending,  but  is  identical  with 
the  theme  or  the  nominative  case,  or  is  only  phonetically 
altered  from  them. 

The  declensional  endings  which  we  have  instanced  are 
those  of  the  singular  number.  To  explain  their  origin  in 
any  such  way  as  shows  us  their  precise  value  as  independent 
elements,  and  the  nature  of  the  act  of  transfer  by  which  they 
were  made  signs  of  case-relations,  is  not  practicable.  Pro- 
nominal elements  are  distinctly  traceable  in  most  of  them, 
and  may  have  assumed  something  of  a  prepositional  force 
before  their  combination.  The  genitive  i.ffix  is  very  likely 
to  have  been  at  the  first,  like  many  genitive  affixes  of  later 
date  in  the  history  of  the  Indo-European  languages,  one 
properly  forming  a  derivative  adjective :  and  it  is  not  im- 
possible that  the  dative  ending  was  of  the  same  nature. 

There  are  many  existing  tongues  which  have  for  the 
plurals  of  their  nouns  precisely  the  same  case-endings  as  for 
the  singular,  only  adding  them  along  with  a  special  piural- 
i/iiig  suffix.      The  attempt  has  been  made*  to  find  such  a 

*  By  Professor  Schleicher,  in  his  Compendium  of  Indo-Eiu-cpsan  Com* 
parative  Grammar. 


VII.]  DECLENSIONAL    FORMS.  273 

plural-suffix  also  among  the  plural  endings  of  our  earliest 
iiOUiis,  but  with  only  faint  and  doubtful  success  ;  if  these 
are  actually  of  composite  derivation,  the  marks  of  their 
composition  are  hidden  almost  beyond  hope  of  discovery. 
We  nnist  be  content  to  say  for  the  present,  at  least,  that 
the  suffixes  of  declension  indicate  by  their  differences  the 
distinctions  of  number  as  well  as  of  case.  And,  among  the 
nouns  as  well  as  the  verbs  of  the  primitive  language,  not 
only  a  j^lural,  but  also  a  dual,  was  distinguished  from  the 
singular  by  its  appropriate  endings,  which  are  of  not  less 
problematical  derivation,  and,  in  the  earliest  condition  of 
speech  that  we  can  trace,  much  fewer  in  number,  being 
limited  to  three. 

One  other  distinction,  that  of  gender,  was  partially  de- 
pendent for  its  designation  upon  the  case-endings.  AYe 
have  already  (in  the  third  lecture)  had  occasion  to  lefer  to 
the  universal  classification  of  objects  named,  by  the  earliest 
language-makers  of  our  family,  according  to  gender,  as  mas- 
culine, feminine,  or  neuter — a  classification  only  partially 
depending' upon  the  actual  possession  of  sexual  qualities,  and 
exhibiting,  in  the  modern  dialects  which  have  retained  it,  au 
aspect  of  almost  utter  and  hopeless  arbitrariness.  jS^or,  as 
was  before  remarked,  is  it  possible  even  in  the  oldest  Indo- 
European  tongues  to  trace  and  point  out  otherwise  than 
most  dimly  and  imperfectly  the  analogies,  apparent  op  fanci- 
ful, which  have  determined  the  grammatical  gender  of  the 
different  words  and  classes  of  words  :  such  is  the  difficulty 
and  obscurity  of  the  subject  that  we  must  avoid  here  enter- 
ing into  any  details  respecting  it.  It  appears  that,  in  the 
first  place,  from  the  masculine,  as  the  fundamental  form, 
certain  words  were  distinguished  as  possessed  of  feminine 
qualities,  and  marked  by  a  difference  of  derivative  ending, 
often  consisting  in  a  prolongation  of  the  final  vowel  of  the 
ending ;  while  to  all  the  derivatives  formed  by  certain  end- 
ings like  qualities  were  attributed.  The  distinction  was 
doubtless  made  in  the  beginning  by  the  endings  of  derivation 
ftlone,  those  of  case  having  no  share  in  it  ;  but  it  passed 
over  to  some  extent  into  those  of  case  also,  the  feminine 
here  again  showing  a  tendencv  to  broader  and  fuller  forms. 

1*8 


271  CHANGES    OP    DECLENSION.  [LfCP. 

The  separation  of  neuter  froin  masculine  was  both  hater  in 
ori<j;iii  and  less  substaiitially  marked,  having  little  to  do  with 
Piiiiixcs  of  derivation,  and  extending  through  only  a  small 
part  of  the  declensional  endings  (it  is  mainly  limited  to  the 
nominative  and  accusative). 

This  system  of  Indo-European  declension  lias  suffered  not 
less   cbange   in  the  history  of  the  various   branches   of  the 
family  than  has  that  of  conjugational  inflection.     The  dual 
number  was  long  ago  given  up,  as  of  insignificant  practical 
value,  by  most  of  the  brdiiches  :  the  oldest  Aryan   dialects 
exhibit  it  most  fully  ;  it  also  makes  some  figure  in  ancient 
Greek  ;  but  even  the  most  antique  Grermanic  tongues  have 
a  dual  only  in  the  j:)ersonal  pronouns  of  the  first  and  second 
persons  ;  and  the  Latin  shows  but  the  faintest  traces  of  it 
(in  the  peculiar  nominative  and  accusative  endings  of  duo, 
*  two,'  and  amho,  '  both  ').      As  regards,  again,  the  cases,  the 
complete  scheme  only  appears  in  the  Indian  and  Persian  ; 
and  even  there  the  process  of  its  reduction  has  begun,  by 
the  fusion,  in  one  or  another  number,  and  in  one  or  another 
class   of  words,  of  two  cases  into  one — that  is  to  say,    the 
loss   of   the   one  as   a   distinct    form,    and  the  transference 
of  its  functions  to  another.      In  the  oldest  known  condition 
of  the  classic  tongues,  this  process  has  gone  yet  farther ;  in 
Latin,  the  locative  and  instrumental  are  thus  fused  with  the 
dative  and  ablative  ;  and  in   Greek,  the  genitive  and  abla- 
tive  have    been    also     compressed    into     one.     The    oldest 
Germanic  dialects  have  nominative,  accusative,  genitive,  and 
dative  ;  with    traces    of  the    instrumental,    which   the   later 
tongues  have   lost.      But  the  modern  development    of  the 
prepositions,  and  their  rise  to   iujportance   as  independent 
indicators  of  the  relations  foi'merly  expressed  by  the  case- 
endings,  has  brought  with  it  a  yet  more  sweeping  abandon- 
ment of  the  latter.      AVe,    in   English,  iiave  saved  a  single 
oblique  case,   the  ancient  genitive,   so  restricting  its  use  at 
the  same  time  as  to  make  a  simple  "  possessive  "  of  it — and 
further,  among  the  pro  louns,  an  accusative  or  "  objective  " 
(wi<?,   us,  etc.,  and  iclioni)  ;   in    the  Romanic    languages,   the 
noun  has  become   wholly  stripped   of   case-inflection.      In 
what  manner  we  have  rid  ourselves  of  the    distinctions  of 


ril.]  PARTS    OF   SPEECH,  275 

grammatical  gender  has  been  shown  in  a  previous  lecture 
(the  third)  :  we  still  keep  up  a  linguistic  distinction  of 
natural  gender  by  the  use  of  our  generic  pronouns  of  the 
third  person,  Tie,  she,  and  it;  the  modern  Persian  has 
abandoned  even  that,  and  the  consideration  of  sex  no  longer 
enters  into  it  in  any  way,  save  in  the  vocabulary,  in  the  use 
of  such  words  as  son  and  daughter,  hull  and  cow.  Of  the 
other  modern  tongues  of  the  family,  some,  like  these  two, 
have  eliminated  from  their  gramimatical  systems  the  distinc- 
tions of  gender  ;  some,  like  the  French,  have  reduced  the 
three  genders  to  two,  by  effacing  the  differences  of  mascu- 
line and  neuter  ;  but  the  larger  part,  like  the  German,  still 
faithfully  adhere  to  the  inherited  distinction  of  masculine, 
feminine,  and  neuter,  so  long  ago  established. 

The  ancient  Indo-European  language  made  no  difference, 
as  regarded  declension,  between  its  two  classes  of  nouns, 
nouns  substantive  and  nouns  adjective.  In  their  genesis, 
the  two  are  but  one  ;  the  same  suffixes,  to  no  small  extent, 
form  both  ;  each  passes  by  the  most  easy  and  natural  transfer 
into  the  other ;  whether  a  given  word  indicating  the  posses- 
sion of  quality  should  be  used  attributively  or  predicatively, 
or  as  an  appellative,  was  a  question  of  subordinate  conse- 
quence. The  pronouns,  also,  both  substantive  and  adjec- 
tive, were  inflected  by  a  declension  mainly  corresponding, 
although  marked  by  some  peculiarities,  and  tending  earlier 
to  irregular  forms. 

With  conjugation  and  declension,  the  subject  of  gram- 
matical structure  is,  in  fact,  as  good  as  exhausted :  every- 
thing in  language  is  originally  either  verb  or  noun.  To  the 
other  parts  of  speech,  then,  which  have  been  developed  out 
of  these,  we  shall  need  to  give  but  a  brief  consideration. 

Adverbs,  the  most  ancient  and  necessary  class  of  indeclin- 
able  words'  or  particles,  are  by  origin,  in  the  earliest  stage 
of  language  as  in  the  latest,  forms  of  declension,  cases  of 
substantives,  or  adjectives,  or  pronouns.  "We  have  seen 
ah-eady  how  our  adverbs  in  ly  were  elaborated  out  of  former 
oblique  cases  (insfrumenfals)  of  adjectives  in  Uc  ('  like  ')  ; 
so  also  the  usual  adverbial  ending  mcnt  of  the  Itomanio 
languages  is  the  Latin  ablative  mente^  '  with  mind  '  (thus, 

18  * 


276  DEVELOPMENT    OF    PARTICLES.  [LECT. 

French  honncment,  '  kindly,'  is  hond  mente^  '  Avitli  kind  iu« 
tent ')  ;  the  ds  which  forms  Greek  adverbs  (for  example^ 
kakos^  '  ill,'  from  kakos,  '  bad ')  is  the  original  ablative  case- 
ending  :  and  we  are  doubtless  to  infer  that  both  the  general 
classes  of  adverbs,  made  by  means  of  apparent  adverbial 
suffixes,  and  the  more  irregular  and  obscure  single  words,  of 
kindred  meaning  and  office,  which  we  trace  in  the  earliest 
vocabulary  of  the  family,  are  of  like  derivation.  Those 
parts  of  speech  which  we  call  prepositions  were  originally 
such,  not  in  our  present  understanaing  ot  the  term,  but 
according  to  its  etymological  signification  ;  they  were  ad- 
verbial prefixes  to  the  verb,  serving  to  point  out  more 
clearly  the  direction  of  the  verbal  action  ;  it  was  only  later, 
and  by  degrees,  that  they  detached  themselves  from  the 
verb,  and  came  to  belong  to  the  noun,  furthering  the  dis- 
appearance of  its  case-endings,  and  assuming  their  office. 
The  earliest  of  them,  as  was  to  be  expected  from  their 
designation  of  direction,  trace  their  origin  chiefly  to  pro- 
nominal roots ;  but  in  part,  also,  they  come  from  verbal. 
Conj unctions^  connectives  of  sentences,  are  almost  altogether 
of  comparatively  Tate'  'growth ";  the'Tarliest  style  was  too 
simple  to  call  for  their  use :  we  have  seen  examples  already 
(in  the  third  lecture)  of  the  mode  in  which  they  were 
arrived  at,  by  attenuation  of  the  meaning  of  words  possess- 
ing by  origin  a  more  full  and  definite  significance.  Other 
products  of  a  like  attenuation,  made  generally  at  a  decidedly 
modern  date,  are  the  articles  :  the  definite  article  always 
growing  out  of  a  demonstrative  pronoun  ;  the  indefinite, 
out  of  the  numeral  one. 

The  interjections^  finally,  however  expressive  and  pregnant 
with  meaning  they  may  be,  are  not  in  a  proper  sense  parts 
of  speech  ;  they  do  not  connect  themselves  with  other  words, 
and  enter  into  the  construction  of  sentences ;  they  are 
either  the  direct  outbursts  of  feeling,  like  oh  !  ah  !  or  else, 
like  st !  sh  !  mere  "  vocal  gestures,"  immediate  intimations 
of  will — in  both  cases  alike,  substitutes  for  more  elaborate 
and  distinct  expression.  They  require,  however,  to  be 
referred  to  here,  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  completeness, 
but  also   because  many  words   come  to  be   employed  only 


711.]  RATE    OF    DEVELOPMENT.  277 

iuterjeotioDally  wbich  were  onoe  full  parts  of  speech  ;  even  a 
whole  phrase  being,  as  it  were,  reduced  to  a  single  preg- 
nantly uttered  exclamation:  examples  are  alas!  that  is,  O 
me  lasso, '  oh  wear  j  me  !  '  zounds  !  '  I  swear  by  God's  ivounds* 
dear  me  !  that  is,  dio  mio,  '  my  God ! '  and  many  others. 

Such  are,  compendiously  and  briefly  stated,  the  steps  by 
which  Indo-European  language  was  developed  out  of  monosyl- 
labic weakness  into  the  wealth  and  fertility  of  inflective  speech. 
At  what  rate  they  went  on,  how  rapid  was  the  growth  after 
its  first  inception,  we  know  not,  and  we  can  hardly  hope 
ever  to  know.  The  conditions  of  that  primitive  period,  and 
the  degree  in  which  they  might  have  been  able  to  quicken  the 
now  sluggish  processes  of  word-combination  and  formation, 
are  so  much  beyond  our  ken  that  even  our  conjectures 
respecting  them  have — at  least  as  yet — too  little  value  to  bo 
worth  recording.  What  may  have  been  the  numbers  of  the 
community  which  laid  the  foundation  of  all  the  Indo-Eu- 
ropean tongues,  and  what  its  relation  to  other  then  existing 
communities,  are  also  points  hitherto  involved  in  the  deepest 
obscurity.  But  we  know  that,  before  the  separation, 
whether  simultaneous  or  successive,  of  this  community  into 
the  parts  which  afterward  became  founders  of  the  different 
tongues  of  Europe  and  south-western  Asia,  the  principal 
part  of  the  linguistic  development  had  already  taken  place — 
enough  for  its  traces  to  remain  ineffaceable,  even  to  the 
present  day,  in  the  speech  of  all  the  modern  representatives 
of  the  family :  the  inflective  character  of  Indo-European 
language,  the  main  distinctions  of  its  parts  of  speech,  its 
methods  of  word-formation  and  inflection,  were  elaborated 
and  definitely  established. 

But,  though  we  cannot  pretend  to  fix  the  length  of  time 
required  for  this  process  of  growth,  in  terms  of  centuries  or 
of  thousands  of  years,  we  can  at  least  see  clearly  that  it 
ijust  liave  gone  on  in  a  slow  and  gradual  manner,  and 
occupied  no  brief  period.  Such  is  the  nature  of  the  forces 
by  which  all  change  in  language  has  been  shown  to  be 
effected,  that  anything  like  a  linguistic  revolution,  a  rapid 
and  sweeping  modification  of  linguistic  structure,  is  wholly 
impossible — and  most  especially,  a  revolution  of  a  construct- 


278  RATE    OF    DEVELOPMENT.  [lECC 

ive   character,    buiUHng    up   a  fabric   of  words   and   forma 
Every  item  of  the  ditference  by  which  a  given  dialect  is  dis. 
tinguished  from  its  ancestor,  or  from  another  dialect  having 
tlie  same  ancestry,  is  the  work  of  a  gradual  change  of  usage 
made  by  the  members  of  a  community  in  the  speech  which 
they  were  every  day  employing  as  their  means  of  mutual 
communication,  and  which,  if  too  rapidly  altered,  would  not 
answer  the  purposes  of  communication.      It  takes  time  for 
even  that  easiest  of  changes,  a  phonetic  corruption  or  abbre- 
viation, to   win  the   assent   of  a   community,   and  "become 
established  as  the  law  of  their  speech  :  it  takes  decades,  and 
even    generations,   or   centuries,   for    an    independent   word 
to  run  through  the  series  of  modiiBcations  in  form  and  mean- 
ing which  are  necessary  to  its  conversion  into  a  formative  ele- 
ment.    That  the  case  was  otherwise  at  the  very  beginning, 
we  have  not  the  least  reason  for  believing.      The  opinion  of 
those  who  hold  that  the  whole  structure  of  a  language  was 
produced  "  at  a  single  stroke  "  is  absolutely  opposed  to  all 
tlie  known  facts  of  linguistic    history  ;  it  has   no  inductive 
basis  whatever ;    it    rests    upon    arbitrary   assumption,   and 
is  supported  by  a  priori  reasoning.      There  must   have  been 
a  period  of  some  duration — and,  for  aught  we  know,  it  may 
have  been  of  very  long  duration — when  the  first  speakers  of 
our  language  talked  together  in  their  scanty  dialect  of  form- 
less  monosvllables.      The  ^v^\  forms,  developed  words  con- 
taininof  a  formal   as  well   as  a  radical   element,  cannot  have 
come  into  existence  otherwise  than  by  slow  degrees,  worked 
out   by  the   unconscious   exercise   of  that   ingenuity  in   the 
adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  of  that  sense  for  symmetry,  for 
finished,   even   artistic,   ])roducti()n,   which    have   ever  been 
qualities  especially  characterizing  our  division  of  the  human 
race.      Every  form  thus  elaborated  led  the  way  to  others  :  it 
helped   to   determine   a   tendency,  to   establish   an   analogy, 
which    facilitated    their   further   production.      A    protracted 
career  of  formal  development  was  run  during  that   primitive 
period  of   1  ndo-Eui-opean  history  which  preceded  the  disj)er- 
Bion    of  the   branches  :    words   and   forms   were    multiplied 
until  even  a  maximum  of  synthetic  com]dexity,  of  fullness  of 
intlc-.'ti\?  wealth,  had  been   reached,   from  which   there  has 


VII.]  ANALYTICAL   TENDENCY.  279 

been  in  later  times,  upon  the  whole,  a  gradual  descent  and 
impoverishment. 

Here  we  must  pause   a  little,  to  consider  an  objection 
arged  by  some   linguistic  scholars  of  rank   and   reputation 
against  the  truth  of  the  views  we  have  been  defending,  as  tc 
the  prhnitive   monosyllabism   of   Indo-European    language, 
and  its  gradual  emergence  out  of  that  condition — an  objec- 
tion which  has  more  apparent  legitimacy  and  force  than  any 
of  those   hitherto  noticed.      It  is  this.     In   ascending  the 
current  of  historical  development  of  the  languages  of  our 
family,  say  the  objectors,  instead  of  approaching  a  monosyl- 
labic condition,  we  seem  to  recede  farther  and  farther  from 
it.      The  older  dialects  are  more  polysyllabic  than  the  later : 
where   our  ancestors  used  long  and  complicated  forms,  we 
are  content  with  brief  ones,  or  we  have  replaced  them  with 
phrases  composed  of  independent  words.      Thus,   to  recur 
once  more  to  a  former  example,  for  an  earlier  lagamasi  we 
say   toe  lie;     thus,  again,  for  the   Latin  ywme^,  the  French 
says  simply  y«i^,  while  we  express  its  meaning  by  four  dis- 
tinct words,  he  might  have  been.     Modern  languages  are  full 
of  verbal  forms  of  this  latter  class,  which  substitute  syntac- 
tical for  substantial  combinations.  The  relations  of  case,  too, 
formerly  signified   only  by  means   of  declensional   endings, 
have  lost  by  degrees  this  mode  of  expression,  and  have  come 
to  be  indicated  by  prepositions,  independent  words.     This  is 
what  is  well  known  as  the  "  analytical  "  tendency  in  linguis- 
tic growth.      Our  own  English  tongue  exhibits  its  effects  in 
the  highest   known   degree,  having  reduced   near  half  the 
vocabulary  it  possesses  to  a  monosyllabic  form,  and  got  rid  of 
almost  all    its  inflections,  so  that  it  expresses  grammatical 
relations  chiefly  by  relational  words,  auxiliaries  and  connec- 
tives :   but  it  is  only  an  extreme  example  of  the  results  of  a 
movement  generally  perceptible  in  modern  speech.  If,  then, 
during  the  period  when  we  can  watch  their  growth  step  by 
step,  languages  have  become  less  synthetic,  words  less  poly- 
syllabic, must  we  not  suppose  that  it  was  always  so  ;  that 
human  speech  began  with  highly  complicated  forms,  which 
from  the  very  first  have  been  undergoing  reduction  to  simi 
pier  and  briefer  shape  ? 


280  TENDENCY  TO  ANALYTICAL  [lECT 

This  ia,  as  we  have  confessed,  a  plausible  argument,  but  it 
is  at  the  same  time  a  thoroughly  unsound  and  superficial 
one.  It  skims  the  surface  of  linguistic  phenomena,  without 
penetrating  to  the  causes  ^yhich  produce  them.  It  might 
pass  muster,  and  be  allowed  to  determine  our  opinions,  if 
the  analytical  tendency  alone  had  been  active  since  our 
knowledge  of  language  began;  if  we  had  seen  old  forma 
worn  out,  but  no  new  forms  made  ;  if  we  had  seen  words 
put  side  by  side  to  furnish  analytic  combinations,  but  no 
elements  fused  together  into  synthetic  union.  But  we 
know  by  actual  experience  how  both  synthetic  and  analytic 
forms  are  produced,  and  what  are  the  influences  and  circum- 
stances which  favour  the  production  of  the  one  rather  than 
of  the  other.  The  constructive  as  well  as  the  destructive 
forces  in  language  admit  of  illustration,  and  have  been  by 
us  illustrated,  with  modern  as  well  as  with  ancient  ex.»mples. 
Both  have  been  active  together,  during  all  the  ages  through 
•uhich  we  can  follow  linguistic  growth.  There  have  never 
been  forms  which  were  not  undersoing  continual  modifica- 
tion  and  mutilation,  under  the  influence  of  the  already 
recognized  tendencies  to  forget  the  genesis  of  a  word  in  it3 
later  application,  and  then  to  reduce  it  to  a  shape  adapted  to 
more  convenient  utterance ;  there  was  also  never  a  time 
when  reparation  was  not  making  for  this  waste  in  part 
by  the  fresh  development  of  true  forms  out  of  old  materials. 
'Not  has  the  tendency  been  everywhere  and  in  all  respects 
downward,  toward  poverty  of  synthetic  forms,  throughout 
the  historic  period.  If  the  Greek  and  Latin  system  of  de- 
clension is  scantier  than  that  of  the  original  language  of  the 
family,  their  system  of  conjugation,  especially  the  Grreek,  ia 
decidedly  richer,  filled  up  with  synthetic  forms  of  secondary 
growth  ;  the  modern  Eomanic  tongues  have  lost  something 
of  this  wealth,  but  they  have  also  added  something  to  it, 
and  their  verb,  leaving  out  of  view  its  compound  tenses,  will 
bear  favourable  comparison  with  that  which  was  the  common 
inheritance  of  the  branches.  Some  of  the  modern  dialects 
of  India,  on  the  other  hand,  having  once  lost,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  plionetic  corru])tion,  the  ancient  case-terminations 
of  the  ISanskrit,  have  replaced  them  by  a  new  scheme,  not 


fll.]  roaMS    OF    EXPRESSION.  28l 

less  full  and  complete  than  its  predecessor.  The  Kussiau  of 
the  present  day  possesses  in  some  respects  a  capacity  of 
synthetic  development  hardly,  if  at  all,  excelled  by  that  of  any 
ancient  tongue.  For  example,  it  takes  the  two  independent 
^Yords  hez  ^oya, '  without  Grod,'  and  fuses  them  into  a  theme 
from  which  it  draws  a  whole  list  of  derivatives.  Thus,  first, 
by  adding  an  adjective  suffix,  it  gets  the  ^^]QQ,t\^Qhezhozhnut, 
'  godless  ;  '  a  new  suffix  appended  to  this  makes  a  noun, 
hezbozhnih,  '  a  godless  person,  an  atheist ;  '  the  noun  givea 
birth  to  a  denominative  verb,  hezbozhnichaty '  to  be  an  atheist;* 
from  this  verb,  again,  come  a  number  of  derivatives,  giving 
to  the  verbal  idea  the  form  of  adjective,  agent,  a.-t,  and 
so  on :  the  abstract  is  hezbozhnichestvo,  '  the  condition  of 
being  an  atheist  ; '  while,  once  more,  a  new  verb  is  made 
from  this  abstract,  n2iji\Q\ybezbozhnichestvovat,\\iQY2l\y  '  to  be 
in  the  condition  of  being  a  godless  person.'  A  more  intri- 
cate synthetic  form  than  this  could  not  easily  be  found  in 
Greek,  Latin,  or  Sanskrit  ;  but  it  is  no  rare  or  exceptional 
ca,se  in  the  language  from  which  we  have  extracted  it ; 
it  rather  represents,  by  a  striking  instance,  the  general  char- 
acter of  Russian  word-formation  and  derivation. 

It  is  obviously  futile,  then,  to  talk  of  an  uninterrupted 
and  universal  reduction  of  the  resources  of  synthetic  exj)res- 
sion  among  the  languages  of  the  Indo-European  family,  or 
to  allow  o:irselves  to  be  forced  by  an  alleged  pervading 
tendency  toward  analytic  forms  into  accepting  synthesis,  in- 
flective richness,  as  the  ultimate  condition  of  the  primitive 
tongue  from  which  they  are  descended.  If  certain  among 
them  have  replaced  one  or  another  part  of  their  synthetic 
structure  by  analytic  forms,  if  som.e — as  the  Grermanic 
family  in  general,  and,  above  all,  the  English — have  taken  on 
a  prevailingly  analytic  character,  these  are  facts  which  wo 
are  to  seek  to  explain  by  a  careful  study  of  the  circumstances  ■ 
and  tendencies  which  have  governed  their  respective  develop- 
ment. If,  moreover,  as  has  been  conceded,  the  general  bent 
has  for  a  long  time  been  toward  a  diminution  of  synthesis 
a.id  a  predominance  of  analytic  expressions,  another  question, 
of  wider  scope,  is  presented  us  for  solution;  but  the  form 
in  which  it  oilers  itself  is  tliis  :  why  should  the  forces  which 


282  ANALYTIC   AND    SYNTHETIC  [LECT. 

profluce  synthetic  combinatioris  have  readied  their  lieight  of 
activity  during  the  ante-historic  period  of  growth,  and  have 
been  gradually  gained  upon  hiter,  at  varying  rates  in  differ- 
ent communities,  by  those  of  another  order  ?  AVe  do  not 
in  the  least  feel  impelled  to  doubt  the  historic  reality  of  the 
earliest  combinations,  their  parallelism,  in  character  and 
origin,  with  those  which  we  see  springing  up  in  modern 
times.  That  we  now  say  analytically  /  did  love,  or  deal,  or 
lead  is  no  ground  for  questioning  that  our  ancestors  said 
eompositely  /  love-did,  deal-did,  lead-did,  and  then  worked 
them  down  into  the  true  synthetic  forms  I  loved,  dealt,  led. 
The  cause  which  produced  the  different  nature  of  the  two 
equivalent  expressions  /  loved  and  /  did  love,  composed,  as 
they  are,  of  identical  elements,  was  a  difference  in  habit  of 
the  language  at  the  periods  when  they  were  respectively 
generated.  Any  language  cxin  do  what  it  is  in  the  habit  of 
doing.  We  can  turn  almost  any  substantive  in  our  vocabu* 
lary  into  a  quasi  adjective — saying  a  gold  watch,  a  grass 
slope,  a  church  mouse,  and  so  on — because,  through  the  inter- 
mediate step  of  loose  compounds  like  goldsmith,  grasshopper, 
churchman,  we  have  acquired  the  habit  of  looking  upon  our 
substantives  as  convertible  to  adjective  uses  without  altera- 
tion and  without  ceremon3^  Neither  the  Frenchm^an  nor 
the  German  can  do  the  same  thing,  simply  because  his 
speech  presents  no  analogies  for  such  a  procedure.  We,  on 
the  other  hand,  like  the  French,  have  lost  the  power  to  form 
compounds  with  anything  like  the  facility  possessed  by  the 
ancient  tongue  from  which  ours  is  descended  and  by  some 
of  its  modern  representatives,  as  the  Grerman  ;  not  because 
they  would  not  be  intelligible  if  we  formed  them,  but  because, 
under  the  operation  of  traceable  circumstances  in  our  lin- 
guistic history,  we  have  grown  out  of  the  habit  of  so  combin- 
ir.g  our  words,  and  into  the  habit  of  merely  collocating 
them,  with  or  without  connectives.  Now  we  have  only  to 
apply  this  principle  upon  a  wider  scale,  and  under  other 
conditions  of  language,  in  order  to  lind,  as  I  think,  a  sulH- 
cicnt  answer  to  the  question  wliich  is  engaging  our  atten- 
tion. When  once,  after  we  know  not  how  long  a  period  of 
expectation  and  tentative  effort,  the  formation  of  words*  by 


VII.]  FORMS    OF    EXPRESSION.  283 

syntjiesis    had  begun    in  tlie  primitive  Indo-European  ]an-\ 
guage,  and  had  been  found  so  fruitful  of  the  means  of  A'aried  \ 
and  distinct  expression,  it  became  the  habit  of  the  language. 
The    more    nunierous   the   new   forms   thus  produced,    the    1 
greater  was   the  facility  of  producing    more,  because    tho  ■ 
material  of  speech  was  present  to  the  minds  of  its  speakerf? 
as  endowed  with  that  capacity  of  combination  and  fusion  of 
which  the   results  in   every   part  of  its  structure   were  so* 
apparent.     But  the  edifice  after  a  time  became,  as  it  were, 
complete ;  a    sufficient    working-apparatus    of  declensional, 
conjugational,   and    derivative    endings    was    elaborated    to 
answer  the  purposes  of  an  inflective  tongue  ;  fewer  and  rarer 
additions  were  called  for,  as  occasional   supplements  of  the 
scheme,  or  substitutes  for  lost  forms.     Thus  began  a  period  • 
in  which  the  formative  processes  were  more  and  more  exclu- 
sively an  inheritance  from  the  past,  less  and  less  of  recent 
acquisition ;  and  as  the  origin  of  forms  was  lost  sight  of,  ob- 
scured by  the  altering  processes  of  phonetic  corruption,  it  be-   . 
came  more  and  more  difficult  to  originate  new  ones,  because 
fewer  analogies  of  such  forms  were  present  to  the  apprehen-  • 
sion  of  the  language-makers,  as  incentives  and    guides  to  ' 
their   action.       On  the   other  hand,    the   expansion    of  the 
whole  vocabulary  to  wealth  of  resources,  to  the  possession  of 
varied  and  precise  phraseology,  furnished  a  notably  increased 
facility   of  indicating    ideas    and     relations    by    descriptive 
phrases,  by  groups   of  independent   words.     This   mode  of 
expression,   then,  always  more  or  less  used  along  with  the 
other,  began  to  gain  ground  upon  it,  and,  of  course,  helped 
to    deaden  the  vitality   of  the   latter,  and  to  render  it  yet 
more  incapable  of  extended  action.      That  tendency  to  the 
conscious  and  reflective  use  of  speech  which  comios  in  with  . 
the  growth  of  culture  especially,  and  which  has  already  been 
repeatedly  pointed  out  as  one  of  the  main  checks  upon  all 
the  processes  of  linguistic  change,  cast  its  influence  in  tne^ 
same  direction  ;  since  the  ability  to  change  the  meaning  and 
application  of  words,  even  to  the   degree  of  reducing  them 
to  the  expression  of  formal  relations,  is  a  much  more  funda- 
mental and  indefeasible  property  of  speech  than  the  ability 
to   combine   and   fuse   them   bodily  together.      Then,  when 


284  ANALYTIC   AND    SYNTHETIC  [lECT. 

peculiar  circumstances  in  the  history  of  a  langunge  have 
arisen,  to  cause  the  rapid  and  general  decay  and  ettaccment 
of  ancient  forms,  as  in  our  language  and  the  llomanic,  the 
process  of  formative  composition,  though  never  wholly  ex- 
tinct, has  been  found  too  inactive  to  repair  the  losses ;  they 
have  been  made  up  by  syntactical  collocation,  and  the 
language  has  taken  on  a  prevailingly  analytic  character. 

These  considerations  and  such  as  these,  I  am  persuaded, 
furnish  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  preponderating 
tendency  to  the  use  of  analytic  forms  exhibited  by  modern 
languages ;  as  they  also  account  for  the  greatly  varying 
degree  in  which  the  tendency  exhibits  itself  But  even 
should  they  be  found  insufficient,  this  would  only  throw 
open  for  a  renewed  investigation  the  question  respectmg  the 
ground  of  the  tendency ;  the  general  facts  in  the  history  of 
earliest  development  of  our  languages  would  still  remain 
sure,  beyond  the  reach  of  cavil,  since  they  are  established  by 
evidence  which  cannot  be  gainsaid,  contained  in  the  structure 
of  the  most  ancient  forms.  We  are  compelled  to  believe 
that  the  formative  processes  which  we  see  going  on,  in  de- 
creasing abundance,  in  the  historically  recorded  ages  of 
linguistic  life,  are  continuations  and  repetitions  of  the  same 
constructive  acts  by  which  has  been  built  up  the  whole 
homogeneous  structure  of  inflective  speech. 

One  more  theoretic  objection  to  the  doctrine  of  a  primi- 
tive Indo-European  monosyllabism  we  may  take  the  time  to 
notice,  more  on  account  of  the  respectability  of  its  source 
than  for  any  cogency  which  it  in  itself  possesses.  M. 
E.enan,  namely,*  asserts  that  this  doctrine  is  the  product  of 
a  mistaken  habit  of  mind,  taught  us  by  the  artificial  scholas- 
tic methods  of  philosophizing,  and  leading  us  to  regard 
simplicity  as,  in  the  order  of  time,  anterior  to  complexity  ; 
while,  in  fact,  the  human  mind  does  not  begin  with  analysis ; 
its  first  acts  being,  on  the  contrary,  complex,  obscure,  syn- 
thetic, containing  all  the  parts,  indistinctly  heaped  together! 
To  this  claim  respecting  the  character  of  the  mental  act  wa 
fliay  safely  yield  a  hearty  assent ;  but,  instead  of  inferring 

♦  In  liis  work  on  the  Origin  of  Language,  seventh  cLapter. 


VII.]  FORMS    OF    EXPRESSION.  2So 

from  it  that  "  the  idea  expressed  itself  at  the  beginning  with 
its  \shole  array  of  determinatives  and  in  a  perfe«ct  unity," 
and  that  hence,  "  in  the  history  of  languages,  synthesis  is 
primitive,  and  analysis,  far  from  being  the  natural  form  of 
the  human  mind,  is  only  the  slow  result  of  its  development," 
v.e  shall  be  conducted  to  a  precisely  contrary  conclusion. 
The  synthetic  forms  which  we  are  asked  to  regard  as  original 
have  not  the  character  of  something  indistinctly  heaped 
together ;  they  contain  the  clear  and  express  designation  of 
the  radical  idea  and  of  its  important  relations  ;  they  repre- 
sent by  a  linguistic  synthesis  the  results  of  a  mental  analysis. 
The  idea  is,  indeed,  conceived  in  unity,  involving  all  its  as- 
pects and  relations ;  but  these  cannot  be  separately  expressed 
until  the  mind  has  separated  them,  until  practice  in  the 
use  of  language  has  enabled  it  to  distinguish  them,  and  to 
mark  each  by  an  appropriate  sign.  In  amabor,  the  (Latin) 
word  cited  as  an  example  of  synthesis,  are  contained  precisely 
the  same  designations  as  in  the  equivalent  English  analytic 
phrase,  '  I  shall  he  loved:  '  ama  expresses  '  loving  ;  '  bo  unites 
future-sign  and  ending  designating  the  first  person  ;  and  the 
r  is  the  sign  of  passivity.  Who  can  possibly  maintain  that 
a  system  of  such  forms,  gathered  about  a  root,  exhibits  fhe 
results  of  experience,  of  developed  acuteness,  in  thought  and 
speech,  any  less  clearly  than  the  analytic  forms  of  our  Eng- 
lish conjugation  ?  The  two  are  only  different  methods  of 
expressing  the  same  "  array  of  determinatives."  The  first 
synthetic  mental  act,  on  the  contrary,  is  truly  represented 
by  the  bare  root :  there  all  is,  indeed,  confused  and  indis- 
crete. The  earliest  radical  words,  when  first  uttered,  stood 
for  entire  sentences,  expressed  judgments,  as  undeniably  as  the 
fully  elaborated  phrases  which  we  now  employ,  giving  every 
necessary  relation  its  proper  designation.  It  is  thus  that, 
even  at  present,  children  begin  to  talk ;  a  radical  word  or 
two  means  in  their  mouths  a  whole  sentence :  up  signifies 
'  take  me  up  into  your  lap  ; '  ffo  ivalk,  '  I  want  to  go  out  to 
walk,'  or  '  I  went  to  walk,'  or  various  other  things,  which 
the  circumstances  sufficiently  explain;  but  forms,  inflections, 
connectives,  signs  of  tense  and  mode  and  condition,  they  do 
not  learn  to  use  until  later,  when  their  mindts  have  acquired 


286  LINGUISTIC    DEVELOPMENT  [lECT. 

power  to  separate  the  indistinct  cognition  L7\to  its  parts 
-M.  Renau,  iu  short,  "has  made  a  very  strange  confusion  of 
analytic  style  of  expression  with  mental  analysis  :  all  expres- 
sion  of  relations,  whether  by  means  that  we  call  synthetic  or 
analytic,  is  the  result  and  evidence  of  analysis ;  and  his  own 
thesis  respecting  the  complexity  in  obscurity  of  unpractised 
and  uninstructed  thought  brings  us  directly  to  a  recognition 
of  the  radical  stage  of  Indo-European  language  as  the  neces- 
sary historical  basis  of  its  inflective  development. 

This  development,  it  may  be  remarked  in  conclusion,  has 
been  gradual  and  steadily  progressive,  beiii'5  governed  in 
both  its  synthetic  and  analytic  phases  by  t^'.e  same  causes 
which  univeryally  regulate  linguistic  growth,  ;  nd  which  have 
been  here  repeatedly  set  forth  or  referred  to  :  namely,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  traditional  influence  of  the  st*  res  of  exj^res- 
eion  already  worked  out  and  handed  down,  c  .nsisting  in  the 
education  given  by  them  to  thought,  and  i  le  consti-aining 
force  exerted  by  their  analogies  ;  and,  ov  the  other  hand, 
the  changing  character  and  capacity,  the  varying  circum- 
stances and  needs,  of  the  community  of  spe  kers,  during  the 
different  periods  of  their  history.  It  has  ex])erienced  no 
grand  revolution,  no  sudden  shift  of  directi  ii,  no  pervading 
change  of  tendency.  There  is  no  cleft,  as  is  sometimes 
assumed,  parting  ancient  tongues  from  modern,  justifying  tho 
recognition  of  different  forces,  the  ad;  lission  of  different 
possibilities,  in  the  one  and  in  the  otht  •.  Nor  are  we  to 
regard  the  energies  of  a  community  as  al  sorbed  in  the  work 
of  language-making  more  at  one  perio  than  at  another. 
Language-making  is  always  done  uncons  iously  and  by  the 
way,  as  it  were :  it  is  one  of  the  inciden  s  of  social  life,  an 
accompaniment  and  result  of  intellectuj  I  activity,  not  an 
end  toward  which  effort  is  directed,  nor  a  'ask  in  whose  per- 
formance is  expended  force  which  mighf  have  been  other- 
wise employed.  The  doctrine  that  a  race  first  constructs  its 
language,  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  is  ready  to  commence 
its  historic  career,  is  as  purely  fanciful  r^  anything  in  the 
whole  great  chapter  of  a  priori  theorizings  about  speech. 
No  living  language  ever  ceases  to  be  constructed,  or  is  less 
rapidly  built  upon  in  ages  of  historic  activity  ;  only  the  style 


TII.l  GRADUAL   AND    CONTINUOUS.  287 

of  the  fabric  is,  even  more  than  the  rate,  determined  by  ex- 
ternal cii'cumstances.  It  is  because  tlie  veiy  earliest  epocba 
of  recorded  history  are  still  far  distant  from  the  beginnings 
of  Indo-European  language,  as  of  human  language  gener- 
ally, that  we  find  its  peculiar  structure  completely  developed 
when  it  is  first  discovered  by  our  researches.  We  have  fully 
acknowledged  the  powerful  influence  exerted  by  culture  over 
the  growth  of  language  :  but  neither  the  accident  of  position 
and  accessibility  to  other  nations  that  at  a  certain  time  brings 
a  race  forward  into  the  light  of  record,  and  makes  it  begin  to 
be  an  actor  or  a  factor  in  the  historic  drama,  nor  its  more 
gradual  and  independent  advance  to  conspicuousness  in 
virtue  of  acquired  civilization  and  political  power,  can  have 
any  direct  eflect  whatever  upon  its  speech.  The  more 
thorough  we  are  in  our  study  of  the  living  and  recent  forms 
of  human  language,  the  more  rigorous  in  applying  the  deduc- 
tions thence  drawn  to  the  forms  current  in  ante-historic 
periods,  the  more  cautious  about  admitting  forces  and  effects 
in  unknown  ages  whereof  the  known  afford  us  no  example 
or  criterion,  so  much  the  more  sound  and  trustworthy  will 
be  the  conclusions  at  which  we  shall  arrive.  It  is  but  a 
shallow  philology,  as  it  is  a  shallow  geology,  which  explains 
past  changes  by  catastrophes  and  cataclysms. 

We  have  now  long  enough  given  our  almost  exclusive 
attention  to  the  language  of  the  Indo-European  race,  and,  in 
the  next  two  lectures,  shall  proceed  to  define  the  boundaries 
and  sketch  the  characters,  as  well  as  we  may,  of  the  other 
grand  divisions  of  human  speech. 


V 


238 


LECTUEE  yill. 


Pajr  ilies  of  languages,  how  established.  Characteristic  features  of  Indo* 
European  language.  Semitic  family  :  its  constitution,  historic  value, 
literatures,  and  linguistic  character.  Relation  of  Semitic  to  Indo- 
European  language.  Scythian  or  Altaic  family  :  its  five  branches : 
their  history,  literatures,  and  character.  Unity  of  the  family  some- 
T/hat  doubtful. 


We  have  now  taken  a  survey  of  the  most  important 
phenomena  of  language  and  of  linguistic  growth,  as  they 
are  illustrated  in  the  forms  of  speech  peculiar  to  the  Indo- 
European  family.  AVe  have  seen  in  what  scanty  beginnings 
our  own  tongue  and  those  related  to  it  had  their  origin,  and 
w  hat,  in  brief,  were  the  steps  by  which  they  advanced  from 
the  weakness  and  barrenness  of  radical  monosjllabism  to  tho 
rich  completeness  of  inflective  speech.  These  matters  were 
brought  to  light  in  the  course  of  the  regular  prosecution  of 
our  fundamental  inquiry,  "  why  we  speak  as  we  do,"  it 
having  been  made  to  ap2)ear  that  our  English  linguistic 
tradition  had  been,  during  a  protracted  and  most  important 
period,  one  with  that  of  all  the  other  members  of  the  family 
mentioned.  Bnt  now,  considering  the  possibility  that  tho 
ludo-European  family  may  be  found,  after  all,  only  a  con- 
stituent group  in  some  yet  vaster  family — or  even,  supposing 
that  possibility  to  be  disproved,  considering  the  impropriety 
of  our  so  circumscribing  our  interests  and  our  sympathies 
as  to  understand  by  the  "  we  "  of  our  question  anything 
less  than  the  whole  human  race — it  becomes  our  duty  next 
to  pass   in  review  the  other  great  linguistic  families  which 


VIII.]  ALL   LANGUAGES    HOilOGENEOUS.  289 

the  science  of  language  "has  establislied,  and  to  see  wherein 
they  agree  with  that  which  has  hitherto  absorbed  the  chief 
eliare;  of  our  attention,  and  wherein  they  differ  from  it. 
Moreover,  it  is  clear  that  we  should  not  appreciate  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  mode  of  communication  and  ex- 
pression belonging  to  our  family,  we  should  not  even  know 
that  it  had  a  distinctive  character  of  its  own,  that  the  pro- 
blem of  speech  was  not  solved  in  an  identical  manner  by  all 
parts  of  the  human  race,  if  we  did  not  look  to  see  how  the 
other  families  have  constructed  the  fabric  of  their  language. 
AYe  shall,  accordingly,  devote  the  present  lecture  and  the 
one  next  following  tc  such  an  examination ;  making  it,  of 
course,  much  more  brief  and  cursory  than  has  been  our  ex- 
amination of  Indo-Eurt^pean  language. 

There  was  the  more  reason  why  we  should  draw  out  with, 
some  fullness  of  detail  the  recognized  history  of  develop- 
ment of  the  language  which  has  been  most  deeply  studied  and 
is  most  thoroughly  understood  by  linguistic  scholars,  inas- 
much as  some  of  the  main  results  thereby  won  have  a 
universal  value.  Much  ol  that  whicb  has  been  demonstrated 
to  be  true  respecting  Indo-European  speech  is  to  be  accepted 
as  true  respecting  all  human  speech.  Not  that  its  historical 
analysis  has  been  everywhere  made  so  complete  as  to  yield 
in  each  case  with  independent  certainty  the  same  results 
which  the  study  of  this  one  family  has  yielded.  But  nothing 
has  been  found  which  is  of  force  to  prove  the  history  of 
language  otherwise  than,  in  its  most  fundamental  features, 
the  same  throughout  the  globe;  while  much  has  been  elicited 
which  favours  its  homogeneousness :  enough,  indeed,  when 
taken  in  connection  with  the  theoretical  probabilities  of 
the  case,  to  make  the  conclusion  a  sufficiently  certain,  one, 
that  all  the  varied  and  complicated  forms  of  speech  which 
now  fill  the  earth  have  been  wrought  into  their  present 
shape  by  a  like  process  of  gradual  development  ;  that  all 
designation  of  relations  is  the  result  of  growth  ;  that  form.a- 
tive  elements  have  been  universally  elaborated  out  of  inde- 
pendent words  ;  that  the  historical  germs  of  language 
everywhere  are  of  the  nature  of  those  simple  elements  wjiich 
>  wo  have  called  roots ;  moreover,  that  roots  have  generally, '/ 
■  19 


200  CLASSIFICATION    OF  [lECT. 

not  without  exception,  been  of  tbe  two  classes  described  in 
the  last  lecture,  pronominal  aud  verbal ;  and  that,  in  the 
earliest  stages  of  growth,  forms  have  been  produced  espe- 
cially by  the  combination  of  roots  of  the  two  classes,  the 
verbal  root  furnishing  the  central  and  substantial  idea,  the 
pronominal  indicating  its  modifications  and  relations. 

Linguistic  families,  now,  as  at  present  constituted,  are 
made  up  of  those  languages  which  have  traceably  had  at 
least  a  part  of  their  historical  development  in  common ; 
which  have  grown  together  out  of  the  original  radical  or 
monosyllabic  stage ;  which  exhibit  in  their  grammatical 
structure  signs,  still  discoverable  by  linguistic  analysis,  of 
liaving  descended,  by  the  ordinary  course  of  linguistic  tradi- 
tion, from  a  common  ancestor.  We  shall  see  hereafter  (in 
the  tenth  lecture),  indeed,  that  the  science  of  language  does 
jiot  and  cannot  deny  the  possible  correspondence  of  some  or 
all  of  the  families  in  their  ultimate  elements,  a  correspond- 
ence anterior  to  all  grammatical  development ;  but  neither 
does  she  at  present  assert  that  correspondence.  She  has 
carried  her  classification  no  farther  than  her  collected 
material,  and  her  methods  of  sober  and  cautious  induction 
from  its  study,  have  justified  her  in  doing;  she  has  stopped 
grouping  where  her  facts  have  failed  her,  where  evidences  of 
common  descent  have  become  too  slight  and  vague  to  be 
longer  depended  upon :  and  the  limit  of  her  power  is  now, 
aud  is  likely  ever  to  be,  determined  by  coincidences  of  gram- 
matical structure.  The  boundaries  of  every  great  family, 
again,  [ire  likely  to  be  somewliat  dubious ;  there  can  hardly 
fail  to  be  branches  which  either  parted  so  early  from  the 
general  stock,  or  have,  owing  to  peculiar  circumstances  in 
their  history,  varied  so  rapidly  and  fundamentally  since  they 
left  it,  that  the  tokens  of  their  origin  have  become  eflaced  I 
ahnost  or  quite  beyond  recognition.  There  was  a  time  when 
the  Celtic  lann^uaiies  were  thus  regarded  as  of  doubtful 
aillnity,  until  a  more  penetrating  study  of  their  material  and 
structure  brought  to  light  abundant  and  unequivocal  evi- 
dence of  their  Indo-European  descent.  The  Albanian,  the 
modern  representative  of  the  ancient  Illyrian,  spoken  by  the 
tierce   and  lawless    race   which   inhabits   the   mountains    of 


Till.]  LANGUAGES    BY   FAMILIES.  291 

north-western  Greece,  :s  still  in  the  same  position ;  linguistic 
scholars  are  divided  in  opinion  as  to  whether  it  is  yet  proved 
to  be  Indo-European,  though  with  a  growing  preponderance 
upon  the  affirmative  side.  Examples  of  excessive  and  effiicing 
diiferentiation  are  not  wanting  in  existing  speech.  There 
are  now  spoken  among  barbarous  peoples  in  diiferent  parts 
of  the  world — as  on  some  of  the  islands  of  the  Pacific, 
among  the  African  tribes,  and  the  aborigines  of  this  con- 
tinent— dialects  in  which  the  processes  of  linguistic  change, 
the  destruction  and  reconstruction  of  words  and  forms,  are 
going  on  at  a  rate  so  abnormally  rapid,  that  a  dialect,  it  is 
said,  becomes  unintelligible  in  a  generation  or  two  ;  and  in  a 
few  centuries  all  material  trace  of  affinity  between  idioms  of 
common  descent  may  become  blotted  out.  Such  exceptional 
cases  do  not  take  away  the  value  of  the  genetic  method  of 
investigation,  nor  derogate  from  the  general  certainty  of  its 
results  in  the  classification  of  languages.  But  they  do  cause 
the  introduction,  cautiously  and  to  a  limited  extent,  of 
another  indication  of  probable  relationship  :  namely,  con- 
cordance in  the  general  method  of  solution  of  the  linguistic 
problem.  It  is  found  that  the  great  families  of  related 
languages  differ  from  one  another,  not  only  in  the  linguistic 
material  which  they  employ,  in  the  combinations  of  sounds 
out  of  which,  back  to  the  remotest  traceable  beginning,  they 
make  their  radical  and  formative  elements,  and  designate 
given  meanings  and  relations,  but  also,  and  often  to  no  small 
degree,  in  their  way  of  managing  their  material ;  in  their 
apprehension  of  the  relations  of  ideas  which  are  to  be  ex- 
pressed by  the  combination  of  elements,  and  in  the  method 
in  which  they  apply  the  resources  they  possess  to  the 
expression  of  relations :  they  differ  in  the  style,  as  well  as 
the  substance,  of  their  grammatical  structure.  It  is  evident 
that  the  style  may  be  so  peculiar  and  characteristic  as  to 
constitute  valid  evidence  of  family  relationship,  even  where 
the  substance  has  been  altered  by  variation  and  substitution 
till  it  presents  no  trustworthy  coincidences.  "We  shall  have 
occasion  to  note  and  examine,  farther  on,  some  of  the  cases 
in  which  reliance  is  placed  upon  morphological  correspond- 
ences, as  they  are  called,  upon  correspondences  of  structural 

19  * 


! 


292  CHARACTERISTICS   OF  [lECT, 

form ;  and  also  to  refer  to  tlie  morphological  classificationa 
of  human  languages  which  are  founded  upon  them — classifi- 
cations whicli  mainly  coincide  with  genetic,  but  also  more  or 
less  combine  and  overlap  them. 

The  main  characteristic  features  of  the  structure  of  Indo- 
European  language  are  readily  enough  deducible  from  the 
exposition  given  in  the  preceding  lecture.  It  generates  its 
forms  by  the  intimate  combination  of  elements  originally  in- 
dependent ;  in  this  respect  agreeing  with  nearly  all  other 
known  tongues.  In  its  combinations,  moreover,  the  forma- 
tive element  is  almost  invariably  added  after  the  radical, 
forming  a  suffix ;  the  only  noteworthy  exceptions  are  the 
augment  of  the  primitive  preterit  tense  of  the  verb,  the 
negative  prefix  (our  un,  in,  in  unthankful,  incapable,  and  the 
like),  and  the  more  separable  elements  which  we  call  prepo- 
Bitions  (in  intend,  pretend,  extend,  distend,  and  so  forth)  :  and 
here,  too,  its  usage  is  paralleled  by  that  of  the  majority  of 
spoken  languages  throughout  the  world.  A  more  distinctive 
characteristic  of  Indo-European  language  is  the  peculiar 
aptitude  which  it  possesses  for  closely  combining  its  radical 
and  formal  elements,  for  losing  sight  of  their  separate  indi- 
viduality, and  applying  their  combination  as  independent 
conventional  sign  of  the  object  indicated.  It  disembarrasses 
itself  of  useless  reminiscences  of  the  former  status  and 
quality  of  its  elements,  fuses  them  completely  together,  and 
exposes  the  result,  as  one  whole,  to  the  action  of  all  the 
wearing  and  altering  processes  of  linguistic  life.  In  dilferent 
constituents  of  the  dialects  of  our  family,  in  difi'erent  dia- 
lects, and  in  difi'erent  stages  of  their  history,  this  tendency 
is  seen  exhibited  in  very  different  degree.  In  our  own 
tongue,  for  instance,  in  such  words  Sis/ullt/,  thankfully,  un- 
thankfulness,  the  combined  elements  are  held  distinctly 
apart,  and  are  ])resent  in  their  separate  substance  and  office 
to  the  mind  of  any  one  who  reflects  a  moment  upon  the 
words  ;  on  the  other  hand,  in  ken  and  can,  in  sit  and  set,  in 
man  and  men,  in  lead  and  led,  in  sing,  sang,  sung,  and  song^ 
in  hind,  hound,  hand,  and  hond,  and  other  like  eases,  the 
fusion  has  gone  to  its  utmost  extent:  various  combinatioua 
of  subordinate  eleiuenta  with  the  roots  of  these  words  have 


1 


Till.]  INDO-EUnOPEAX    LANGUAGE.  29«S 

saused  the  development  of  the  roots  themselves  into  varying 
phonetic  forms  ;  and  these  have  then  been  applied,  at  first 
to  support,  and  afterwards  to  replace,  the  primitive  means  of 
grammatical  expression  :  an  internal  flection  has  come  ia 
upon  and  supplanted  the  original  aggregation.  All  ludo-Eu- 
ropean  forms  are  originally  of  the  kind  here  first  illustrated, 
mere  agglutinations  of  independent  elements,  whereof  a 
part  are  reduced  to  a  subordinate  value  and  formal  signifi- 
cance ;  but  they  tend,  in  a  marked  degree,  to  pass  over  into 
the  other  kind,  indicating  formal  relations  by  internal  change 
in  the  root  or  theme,  instead  of  by  external  additions  alone. 
This  tendency  is  generally  regarded  as  constituting  the 
highest  characteristic  of  the  Indo-European  dialects,  as 
making  them  properly  inflective  ;  and  languages  possessing 
in  this  sense  an  inflective  character  are  reckoned  to  stand  at 
the  head  of  all  the  forms  of  human  speech.  Some,  hovrever, 
are  inclined  to  claim  a  more  original  and  fundamental  im- 
portance for  the  process  of  internal  change  in  the  history  of 
the  tongues  of  our  family,  to  regard  a  capacity  of  significant 
variation  of  vowel  as  inherent  in  their  roots,  and  bearing  a 
regular  and  conspicuous  part  in  even  the  earliest  steps 
of  their  development.  The  evidence  upon  which  this  claim 
is  founded  I  cannot  but  regard  as  altogether  insufiicient  to 
sustain  it.  AVherever,  in  the  most  ancient  as  well  as  the 
more  modern  processes  of  word-formation  and  inflection,  we 
find  internal  changes  of  the  root,  they  are,  I  am  persuaded, 
of  secondary  growth,  inorganic  ;  they  are  called  out  ulti- 
mately by  phonetic  causes,  not  originated  for  the  purpose  of 
marking  variation  of  meaning,  though  sometimes  seized  and 
applied  to  that  purpose.  To  prove  the  element  of  internal 
flection  one  of  prime  value  in  the  growth  of  Indo-European 
language,  it  would  be  necessary  to  show  that  the  variation 
of  vowel  had  a  distinctly  assignable  office  in  the  primitive 
production  of  words  ;  that  it  regularly  distinguished  from 
one  another  certain  parts  of  speech,  certain  classes  of  de- 
rivatives, certain  forms  of  declension  or  conjugation  ;  that  it 
formed  guiding  analogies,  which  could  be  and  actually  were 
imitated  continuously  in  the  further  processes  of  word- 
making.     But   this  is  far  from  being  the  case  ;  on  the  con- 


294  INDO-EUROPEAN    INFLECTION.  [LECT. 

trary,  the  plienomena  bear  everywhere  an  irregular  and 
Bporadic  character :  the  change  of  vowel  in  the  oldest  de- 
rivatives is  only  an  accompaniment  of  derivation  by  means 
of  suffixes  ;  it  has  no  constant  significance ;  it  acquires 
significance  only  at  second  hand,  in  the  manner  of  a  result, 
not  a  cause  ;  and  it  remains  everywhere  as  barren  of  forma- 
tive force  as  in  the  Germanic  verbs  (where,  as  was  shown 
in  the  third  lecture,  its  infecundity  led  to  the  construction 
of  a  new  scheme  of  conjugation),  or  as  in  our  irregular 
plurals  like  men  vaxAfret,  from  man  andybo^.  Only,  therefore, 
so  far  as  it  is  regarded  as  an  effect  and  sign  of  thorough  in- 
tegration of  elements,  of  complete  unity  of  designation,  can 
we  accept  internal  change  as  an  exponent  of  the  superiority 
of  Indo-European  speech. 

But  the  peculiarities  belonging  to  the  character  of  our 
family  of  languages  will  be  more  clearly  apprehensible  when 
we  shall  have  taken  a  survey  of  the  other  principal  forms  of 
human  speech,  to  which,  accordingly,  after  these  necessary 
introductory  remarks,  we  now  turn.  We  shall  take  up  the 
families  in  an  order  partly  geographical,  and  partly  based 
upon  a  consideration  of  their  respective  importance. 

On  both  these  grounds,  there  can  be  no  question  as  to 
which  group  of  languages,  outside  of  the  Indo-European 
domain,  ought  first  to  receive  our  attention.  It  is  evidently 
that  one  which  includes  as  its  principal  branches  the  Hebrew, 
the  Syriac,  and  the  Arabic.  From  the  names  of  its  two  ex- 
treme members, it  is  sometimes  styled  the  Syro-Arabian  family; 
but  its  usual  and  familiar  designation  is  Semitic  or  Shemitie, 
derived  fi-om  the  name  of  the  patriarch  Shem,  son  of  Noah, 
who  in  Genesis  is  made  the  ancestor  of  most  of  the  nations 
that  speak  its  dialects.  It  is  a  very  distinctly  marked  group, 
and,  though  occupying  but  a  limited  tract  in  the  south- 
western corner  of  Asia,  with  some  of  the  adjacent  parts 
of  Africa,  is  of  the  highest  consequence,  by  reason  of  tlie 
conspicuous  part  which  the  race  to  which  it  belongs  has 
played  in  the  history  of  the  world.  This  is  too  well  known 
to  require  to  be  referred  to  here  otherwise  than  in  the 
briefest  manner. 

The  Phenicians,  inhabiting  Tyre,  Sidon,  and  the  adjacent 


I 


VIII.]  SEMITIC   LANGUAGE.  295 

parts  of  tlie  Mediterranean  coast,  and  speaking  a  dialect  so 
nearly  akin  witli  tke  Hebrew  tliat  its  scanty  remains  are 
read  with  no  great  diflB.cultY  by  tlie  aid  of  that  language, 
have  been  wont  to  be  accounted  as  the  first  to  give  the  race 
prominence  in  general  history.  The  part  which  thev  played 
was  of  the  most  honourable  and  useful  character.  Their 
commercial  enterprise  widely  extended  the  limits  of  geograph- 
ical knowledge,  and  bound  together  distant  peoples  by  the 
ties  of  mutual  helpfulness  ;  their  colonies  opened  to  civiliza- 
tion the  countries  bordering  the  Mediterranean,  and  prepared 
the  way  for  the  extension  of  Greek  and  Roman  culture.  A 
significant  indication  of  the  far-reaching  and  beneficent 
nature  of  their  activity  is  to  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  a  large 
portion  of  the  world's  alphabets,  including  many  of  those 
which  have  the  widest  range,  and  have  been  used  by  the 
most  cultivated  nations,  come  from"  the  Phenician  alphabet 
as  their  ultimate  source.  To  great  political  importance  the 
Phenicians  never  attained,  except  in  their  most  flourishing 
colony,  Carthage,  which,  as  we  well  know,  disputed  for  a  time 
with  the  B/Omans  the  empire  of  the  world. 

But  it  must  not  fail  to  be  noticed  that,  even  before  the 
rise  of  the  Phenician  world-commerce,  there  were  great 
Semitic  empires  in  Mesopotamia,  that  country  where  the  idea 
of  universal  empire  appears  to  haye  had  its  origin  and  its  first 
realization,  and  where  some  of  the  earliest  germs  of  world- 
civilization  sprang  up  and  were  nursed.  The  mixture  of 
nationalities  and  of  cultures  which  contended  in  that  arena 
for  the  mastery  during  tens  of  centuries,  until  the  Indo- 
European  Persians  subjected  all  beneath  their  sway,  is  most 
intricate,  and  as  yet  only  partially  understood  :  the  know- 
ledge of  its  intricacy,  and  the  hopeful  means  of  its  final  solu- 
tion, were  given  together,  but  a  few  years  since,  in  the  dis- 
covery and  decipherment  of  the  monuments  of  jS'ineveh  and 
Babylon,  of  the  records  known  as  "  cuneiform,"  from  the 
shape  of  tlie  characters  in  which  they  are  written.  These 
records  are  abundant,  and  of  various  content,  consisting 
not  in  inscriptions  alone,  but  in  whole  libraries  of  annals 
and  -works  of  science  and  literature,  stamped  upon  tablets 
and  cylinders  of  burnt  clay  ;  but  their  examination  is  as  yet 


296  SEMITIC    HISTORY,  [legt. 

too  incomplete,  and  the  results  drawn  from  it  too  fragment- 
ary and  uncertain,  to  allow  of  our  taking  any  detailed  notice 
of  tliem  here  ;  the  questions  which  they  aticct  are  still 
under  judgment,  and  only  the  very  few  who  have  made  pro- 
found and  orit^-inal  studies  among  the  monuments  can  venture 
to  speak  respecting  them  with  authority.  It  is  enough  for 
us  to  note  that  the  Semitic  race  was  prominent,  and  during 
a  long  period  preeminent,  in  Mesopotamia,  and  that  a  highly 
important  part  of  its  history,  and  of  the  history  of  Semitic 
language,  is  coming  to  light  as  the  fruit  of  cuneiform  studies. 

During  all  this  time  there  was  enacting — behind  a  screen, 
as  it  were — a  part  of  Semitic  history  which  was  to  prove  of 
incomparably  greater  importance  to  the  world  than  Pheni- 
cian  commerce  or  Babylonian  empire.  The  little  people  of 
the  Hebrews  was  politically  a  most  insignificant  item  in  the 
Bum  of  human  afiairs  ;  but  its  religion,  made  universal  by 
Christ,  has  become  the  mightiest  element  in  human  history  ; 
its  wonderful  ancient  literature  is  the  work  which  all  en- 
lightened nations  of  the  present  day  unite  in  calling  Bible, 
that  is,  '  the  book ; '  its  language  is  even  now  more  studied 
than  any  other  outside  the  pale  of  Indo-European  speech. 

And  yet  once  more,  in  comparatively  modern  times,  long 
after  Mesopotamian  empire,  and  Phenician  commerce,  and 
Carthaginian  lust  of  conquest,  and  Jewish  temple-worship, 
hac\  passed  away  for  ever,  extinguished  in  the  extinction  of 
those  several  nationalities,  a  new  branch  of  the  Semitic  race, 
which  till  then  had  slumbered  in  inaction  and  insignificance 
in  the  deserts  of  Arabia,  awoke  all  at  once  to  the  call  of 
a  great  religious  teacher,  ]Mohammed,  buist  its  limits,  over- 
whelmed Asia,  Africa,  and  no  snuill  part  of  Europe,  and 
flowered  out  suddenly  and  brilliantly  in  science,  art,  and 
philosophy,  attaining  a  combined  political  and  literary 
eminence  to  which  no  Semitic  people  had  made  before  any 
approach,  and  threatening  to  wrench  the  leadership  of 
human  destiny  from  the  keeping  of  the  enfeebled  races  of 
Europe.  Finally,  corrupted  within,  and  foiled  and  broken 
without,  it  sank  again  into  comparative  obscurity  ;  and  with 
it  went  down,  probably  for  ever,  the  star  of  Semitic  glory 
and*  importance   in  the  external  history  of  the  w  orld ;  al- 


Till.]  LANGUAGE,    AND   LITERATURES.  297 

though  half  mankind  still  own  the  sway  of  Semitic  religioua 
ideas  and  institutions.      ^   - 

The  Semitic  dialects  are  divided  into  three  principal 
branches  :  the  northern,  comprehending  the  idioms  of  Syria 
and  Assyria,  and  usually  called  the  Aramaic  ;  the  central,  or 
Canaanitic,  composed  of  the  Hebrew  and  Phenician,  with  the 
Punic  ;  and  the  southern,  or  Arabic,  including,  besides  the 
proper  or  literary  Arabic  and  the  dialects  most  closely  akin 
with  it,  the  Himyaritic  in  the  south-western  region  of  the 
peninsula,  and  the  outliers  of  the  latter  in  Africa,  the  literary 
Ethiopic  or  Gleez,  the  Amharic,  and  other  Abyssinian  dialects. 
Passing  over  the  Mesopotamian  records,  as  of  an  age  and 
character  not  yet  fully  established,  the  Hebrew  literature  is 
by  far  the  oldest  which  the  family  has  to  show,  and,  as  is 
known  to  every  one,  ranks  among  the  oldest  in  the  world. 
!From  a  time  anterior,  doubtless,  to  that  of  Moses,  the  works 
of  the  Hebrew  annalists,  poets,  and  prophets  cover  the  whole 
period  of  Jewish  history  until  some  four  centuries  before 
Christ,  when  the  Hebrew  had  ceased  to  exist  as  a  vernacular 
language,  and  was  replaced  by  the  Chaldee  or  Aramaic,  the 
dialect  of  Syria.  But  it  has  never  ceased  to  be  read, 
written,  and  even  to  some  extent  spoken,  by  the  learned, 
from  that  time  until  now — especially  since  the  revival  of  its 
use,  and  the  purification  of  its  style,  among  the  scattered 
Jewish  populations  of  Europe,  following  upon  the  expulsion 
of  the  Jews  from  S])ain  in  the  twelfth  century.  Of  the 
degraded  and  mixed  Hebrew  used  as  the  learned  dialect  of 
the  Rabbins,  not  far  from  the  beginning  of  our  era,  the 
Mishna  is  the  most  important  monument.  The  Samaritan 
is  another  impure  dialect  of  the  Hebrew,  so  permeated  with 
Aramaic  elements  as  to  be  a  kind  of  medium  between 
Hebrew  and  Aramaic.  Its  oldest  monument,  a  version  of 
the  Pentateuch,  is  referred  to  the  first  century  of  our  era. 
It  seems  at  present  to  be  on  the  point  of  extinction. 

Phenicia  has  left  us  no  literature.  The  coffin  of  one  of 
the  kings  of  Sidon,  found  but  a  few  years  since,  presents  in 
its  detailed  inscription  a  fuller  view  of  the  Phenician  toni2;ue 
than  is  derivable  from  all  its  other  known  records,  taKcn 
together.     A  few  inscriptions,  and  a  mutilated   and  obscure 


298  SEMITIC    LITERATURES.  [LECT. 

frao^ent  in  a  play  of  the  Roman  poet  Plautus,  wliereof  tbe 
scene  is  laid  in  Cartliaf^e,  are  tlie  only  relics  left  us  of  the 
idiom  of  that  queenly  city. 

The  earliest  records  of  Aramaic  speech  are  the  so-called 
Chaldee  passages  found  in  some  of  the  later  oooks  of  the 
Hebrew  Bible  (a  single  verse  in  Jeremiah,  and  longer 
passages  in  Esdras  and  Daniel).  Other  products  of  the 
literary  use  by  the  Jews  of  the  same  language  are  the 
Targums,  or  paraphrases  of  Scripture,  dating  from  about  the 
time  of  Christ,  and  the  Talmuds,  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries.  But  in  the  second  century,  with  the  translation 
of  the  whole  Bible  into  the  language  of  Syria  (usually  called 
the  Peshito  version),  begins  an  important  Christian  Syriac 
literature,  of  which  considerable  portions  are  still  preserved 
to  us.  It  flourished  especially  between  the  fourth  and  ninth 
centuries.  Besides  the  valuable  historical  information,  touch- 
ing the  early  ages  of  the  Christian  church,  which  it  records, 
it  played  an  important  part  in  transmitting  to  the  Arabs  the 
literature,  science,  and  philosophy  of  the  Greeks.  Its  career 
was  brought  to  a  close,  and  even  the  Syriac  idiom  itself  nearly 
crowded  out  of  existence,  by  the  rise  and  rapid  extension 
of  the  Arabic,  in  the  centuries  after  Mohammed.  But  the 
ancient  Syriac  is  still  the  sacred  dialect  of  the  feeble  bodies 
of  Christians  in  Asia  wh'ch  rei)resent  the  Syriac  church  ;  and 
its  modern  representati  r es,  much  corrupted  in  form  and  of 
mixed  material,  are  even  now  spoken  by  a  few  scattered  com- 
munities. AVith  one  of  these  communities,  the  Nestorians 
of  Orumiah  and  its  vicinity — scanty  remains  of  a  sect  wliich 
once  sent  its  missionaries  into  the  remotest  regions  of  Asia, 
into  India,  Mongolia,  and  China — the  labours  of  American 
missionaries  have  lately  made  our  public  well  acquainted. 
A  modern  Syriac  literature  is  growing  up  once  more  under 
till  ir  auspices. 

Besides  these  two  Aramaic  literatures,  the  one  Jewish  and 
the  other  Christian,  it  is  believed  that  there  has  existed 
another,  of  native  origin  and  of  character  more  truly 
national  ;  but  it  is  now  lost,  doubtless  beyond  recovery. 
Traditions  of  ancient  Chaldean  leai-ning  attach  themselves  to 
the  name  Nabatcan,  and  one  or  two  curious  books  have  been 


VIII.]  SEMITIC    LITERATURES.  299 

recently  brouglit  to  liglit  out  of  the  Arabic  literature,  claim- 
iug  to  be  versions  of  Nabatean  works  of  a  very  high  an- 
tiquity :  but  they  are  generally  regarded  as  literary  impos- 
tures, containing  only  a  scanty,  if  an  appreciable,  element  of 
what  is  genuine  and  ancient.  In  the  practices  and  traditions 
of  the  Mendaites  and  Sabians  are  also  seen  traces  of  an 
indigenous  Chaldean  culture. 

The  oldest  monuments  belonging  to  the  southern  or 
Arabian  branch  of  Semitic  speech  are  the  inscriptions  dis- 
covered in  the  south-western  corner  of  the  great  peninsula. 
They  represent  a  language  very  diiferent  from  the  classical 
Arabic,  as  the  character  and  civilization  of  the  Sabeans  and 
Himyarites,  from  whom  they  come,  appear  to  have  been  very 
unlike  those  of  the  Arabs  of  the  desert.  Their  exact  period 
is  hitherto  unknown.  Language  and  civilization  have  alike 
been  almost  wholly  supplanted,  since  the  rise  of  Islamism, 
by  the  conquering  Arabic,  only  obscure  relics  of  them  being 
left  in  the  Ehkili  and  other  existing  idioms  of  the  south. 
Most  nearly  akin  with  the  Himyaritic  is  the  speech  of  the 
neighbouring  region  of  Africa,  which  was  unquestionably 
peopled  from  southern  Arabia,  by  emigration  across  the  E-ed 
Sea.  The  ancient  tongue  of  Abyssinia,  the  Ethiopic  or 
Geez,  has  a  literature,  wholly  of  Christian  origin  and  con- 
tent, coming  down  from  the  fourth  century  of  our  era  :  its 
earliest  monument  is  a  version  of  the  Bible.  As  a  culti- 
vated and  current  language,  it  has  been  gradually  crowded 
out  of  use  during  the  past  six  centuries  by  the  Amharic, 
another  dialect  of  the  same  stock,  but  of  a  more  corrupt  and 
barbarous  character. 

Immensely  superior  in  value  to  all  the  other  Semitic 
literatures,  excepting  the  Hebrew,  although  latest  in  date  of 
them  all,  is  that  which  is  written  in  the  Arabic  tongue.  Its 
beginning  is  nearly  contemporaneous  with  the  rise  of  the 
Arab  people  to  historical  importance  :  the  Koran,  collected 
and  written  down,  about  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century, 
from  tb<^  records  and  traditions  of  Mohammed's  revelations, 
is  its  starting-point.  Only  a  few  poems,  of  no  great  length, 
belong  to  an  age  somewhat  earlier ;  and  the  inscriptions  of 
Sinai  and  of  Petra,  which  go  back  nearly  to,  or  even  some- 


300  CHAr.ACTERISTICS    OF  [LECT- 

what  beyond,  the  Christian  era,  give  scanty  representation  of 
dialects  nearly  kindred.  That  which  we  call  the  Arabic  was, 
anterior  to  Mohammed,  the  spoken  dialect  of  the  tribes 
occupying  the  central  part  of  the  country  ;  that  is  to  say,  of 
that  part  of  the  population  which  was  of  purest  Semitic 
blood,  and  less  affected  than  any  other,  in  language,  manners, 
and  institutions,  by  disturbing  foreign  influences.  As  a 
natural  consequence  of  the  political  and  religious  revolution 
by  which  Islamism  became  the  religion,  first  of  Arabia,  then 
of  so  large  a  portion  of  Asia  and  Africa,  this  dialect  has 
had  a  career  almost  comparable  with  that  of  the  Latin.  It 
has  extinguished  nearly  all  the  other  dialects  of  the  Semitic 
family  within  their  ancient  limits  ;  it  has  spread  over  Egypt 
and  the  whole  northern  coast  of  Africa ;  the  language  of 
Spain,  and  yet  more  the  Hindustani  of  central  India,  have 
borrowed  abundantly  of  its  material  ;  the  modern  literary 
Persian  and  Turkish  have  their  vocabularies  made  up  almost 
more  of  Arabic  words  than  of  those  of  native  growth.  Of 
the  wonderfully  rich  and  various  Arabic  literature,  of  the  part 
it  played  in  the  preservation  and  transmission  of  classical 
learning  to  modern  times,  of  the  treasures  of  information  it 
contains  respecting  the  history  and  geography  of  the  Orient, 
it  is  not  necessary  here  to  speak  ;  the  theme  belongs  to 
literary,  not  to  linguistic,  history.  We  turn  to  a  consider- 
ation of  the  chief  peculiarities  of  Semitic  language. 

The  Semitic  type  of  speech  is  called  inflective,  like  the 
Indo-European,  and  philologists  are  accustomed  to  allow  the 
title  to  no  other  languages  than  these  two.  AVe  must 
beware,  however,  of  supposing  that  this  inclusion  in  one 
morphological  class  implies  any  genetic  relationship  between 
the  families,  or  is  to  be  regarded  as  even  suggesting  the  prob- 
ability of  their  common  descent.  There  is  between  them, 
on  the  contrary,  only  such  a  resemblance  as  is  due  to  a 
correspondence  of  natural  endowments  in  the  language- 
making  races.  Semitic  inflection  is  so  totally  diverse  from 
Indo-European  inflection,  that  the  historical  transition  from 
the  one  to  the  other,  or  from  a  common  original  to  both,  is 
of  a  diflu-ulty  which  cannot  be  exceeded.  The  Semitic 
tongues  possess  in  many  respects  a  more  peculiar  and  isoUted 


V(1I.]  SEMITIC   LANGUAGE.  801 

cTiaracter  tlian  any  others  Avliicti   exist.      Their  most   funda- 
mental characteristic  is  the  triliterality  of  their  roots.   With 
rare  and  insignificant  exceptions,  every  Semitic  verbal   root 
• — the  pronominal  roots   are  not  subject  to  the  same  law — 
contains  just  three  consonants,  no  more  and  no  less.    More- 
over, it  is  composed  of  consonants  alone.      That  is  to  say : 
whereas,    in    the    Indo-European    and    otiier    tongues,    the 
radical  vowel  is  as  essential  a  part  of  the  root  as  any  other, 
even  though  more  liable  than  the  consonants  to  phonetic 
alteration,  in  the  Semitic,  on  the  other  hand,  the  vocalization 
of  the  radical  consonants  is  almost  solely  a  means  of  gram- 
matical   flexion.       Only    the    consonants   of    the    root  are 
radical  or  significant  elements ;  the  vowels  are  formative  or 
relational.     Thus,  for   example,  the  three  consonants  q-t-l 
form  a  root  (Arabic)  which  conveys  the  idea  of  'killing:' 
then    qatala  means    'he  killed;'    qutila,    'he  was   killed;' 
qulilu,    '  they  were  killed  ; '  uqtul,  '  kill ; '  qdtil,   '  killing  ; ' 
iqtnl,     'causing   to   kill;'    qatl,  'murder;'    ([itl,    'enemy;' 
qutl,  '  murderous ;  '  and   so   on.     Along  with   this  internal 
flection  is  found  the  use  of  external  formative  elements,  both 
sufiixes  and  prefixes,  and  also,  to  a  limited  extent,  infixes,  or 
inserted  letters  or  syllables  ;  yet  they  are  but  little  relied  on, 
and  play  only  a   subordinate  part,  as   compared  with  their 
analogues  in  the  languages  of  other  races ;  the  main  portion 
of   the   needed  inflection  is   provided  for  by  means  of  the 
varying    vocalization    of    the   root,   and    what  remains    for 
affixes  to  do  is  comparatively  trifling.      The   aggregation   of 
affix  upon   affix,  the  formation  of  derivative  from  derivative, 
so  usual  with  us  (it  was  illustrated  in  a  former  lecture  by 
such   examples  as    inapplicahilities    and    untrutlifiilly),    is  a 
thing  almost  unknown   in  the   domain   of    Semitic  speech. 
This  truly  Procrustean  uniformity  of  the  Semitic  roots,  and 
this  capacity   of    significant  internal   change,    separate  the 
languages    to    which    they    belong    by  a    wide    and  almost 
impassable  gulf  from  all  others  spoken  by  the  human  race. 
So  far  as  we  can  discover,  the  varying  vocalization  of  the  roots 
hi   these  languages   is   an  ultimate  fact,   and    directly  and 
organically  indicative  of  a  variation  of  meaning :    it  is  not, 
like  the  occasional  phenomena  of  a  somewhat  similar  char- 


802  CHARACTERISTICS    OP  [lECT. 

acter  presented  by  the  Indo-European  languages,  a  distinc- 
tion originally  euphonic,   and   afterwards  made   significant. 
We  can  point  out  the  influences  which  have  made  me-n  the 
plural  of  man,  led  the  preterit  of  lead  ;  we  can   trace  back 
set  and  sang  to  forms  in  which  their  distinction  from  sit  and 
sing  was  conveyed  by  formative  elements  added  from  without 
to  the  root;  but  no  historical  researches   bring  the    Semitic 
scholar  to,  or  even  perceptibly  toward,  any  such  explanation 
of  the    forms  he   is    studying.      Now  and   then   a   kind  of 
symbolism   is  pretty  distinctly  traceable  :  the  weaker  vowels 
i  and  u  sometimes  convey  by  their  use  an  intimation  of  less 
active  or  transitive  meaning,   as  compared  with   the   strong 
full  a  :  thus,  the  act  of  '  killing  '  is  expressed  by  qatala,  but 
the  conditions    of  '  being   sorry,'    of  '  being  beautiful,'    by 
*hazina,  'hasuna  ;  and  especially,  every  active  verb,  like  qatala^ 
has  its  corresponding  passive  qutila.     But   such  considera- 
tions can  explain  only  a  small  portion  of  the  derivatives  from 
Semitic    roots ;    the   genesis    of    the    rest    is   an    unsolved 
problem,   of  exti-emest  difficulty.     The   triplicity  of  radical 
consonants  is  an   equally  primitive  characteristic  of  all  the 
Semitic  tongues,  yet  there  are  not  wanting  certain  apparent 
indications  that   it   is   the   result  of  historical  development. 
To  make  out  the  required  number  of  three,  some  roots  con- 
tain the  same  consonant  doubled  ;  in  others,  one  of  the  three 
is  a  weak  or  servile  letter,  hardly  more  than  a  hiatus,  or  it  is 
a  semivowel  which  seems  to  have  been  developed  out  of  an 
original  vowel ;  further,  there  are  groups  of  roots  of  some- 
what kindred  signification  which  agree  in  two  of  their  con- 
sonants, so  tliat  the  tliird  is  plausibly  conjectured   to  be  an 
introduced  letter,  having  the  eftect  to  difl'crentiate   a  general 
meaning  once  conveyed  by  the  other  two  alone.      Guided   by 
such  signs,  and  urged  on  by  the  ])rcsumed  necessity  in  theory 
for  regarding  triliterality  as  not  absolutely  original,  scholars 
have  rc])catedly  made  the  attempt  to  reduce  these  roots   to 
an  (>:irli('r  and  simpler  condition,  out  of  which  they  should  be 
accounted  a  liistoric  growtli — but    hitherto   with  only  indif- 
ferent success  ;  we  are  yet  far  from  attaining  any  satisfactory 
understanding  of  the   beginnings  of  Semitic  speech.      It   is 
suggested  with  much  plausibility  that  the  universality  of  the 


VIII.]  SEMITIC   LANGUAGE.  303 

tliree  root-letters  maybe  due  to  the  inorganic  and  arbitrary- 
ex  tension  of  an  analogy  which  had  by  some  means  become  a 
dominant  one ;  and  that,  in  attaining  their  present  form, 
the  roots  have  prevailingly  passed  through  the  condition  of 
derivative  nouns.  The  Semitic  verbal  forms  show  many 
signs  of  a  more  immediate  and  proximate  development  out 
of  forms  of  nouns  than  is  to  be  traced  in  the  structure  of 
the  Indo-European  verb.  * 

In  no  small  part  of  its  structure,  the  Semitic  verb  differs 
very  strikingly  from  the  Indo-European.  It  distinguishes, 
indeed,  the  same  three  numbers,  singular,  dual,  and  plural, 
and  the  same  persons,  first,  second,  and  third,  and  its  per- 
sonal endings  are  to  a  considerable  extent  formed  in  the 
same  manner,  by  adding  pronominal  elements  to  the  verbal 
root.  But  in  the  second  and  third  persons  it  makes  a 
farther  distinction  of  the  gender  of  the  subject :  thus, 
qatalat,  'she  killed,'  is  different  from  qatala,  'he  killed.' 
What  is  of  much  more  consequence  is  that  its  representa- 
tion of  the  important  element  of  time  is  quite  diverse  from 
ours.  The  antithesis  of  past,  present,  and  future,  which 
seems  to  us  so  fundamental  and  necesSary,  the  Semitic  mmd 
has  ignored,  setting  up  but  two  tenses,  whose  separate  uses 
are  to  no  small  extent  interchangeable  and  difficult  of 
distinct  definition,  but  whereof  the  one  denotes  chiefly  com- 
pleted action,  the  other  incomplete  ;  each  of  them  admitting 
of  employment,  in  different  circumstances,  as  past,  present, 
or  future.  The  perfect  or  preterit  is  the  more  original,  and 
its  persons  are  formed  b}^  appended  pronominal  endings  ;  the 
imperfect  (sometimes  called  future)  has  the  terminations  of 
number  belonging  to  a  noun,  and  indicates  person  and 
gender  by  prefixes  :  thus,  the  three  masculine  persons  in  the 
singular  are  aqtitlu,  taqtulu,  and  1/ a qtulu  ;  the  third,  mascu- 
line and  feminine,  dual,  are  yaqtuldni  and  taqtuldni ;  plural, 
yaqtulfnia  and  yaqtulna.  To  the  imperfect  belongs  a  sub- 
junctive and  imperative,  and  one  or  two  other  less  common 
quasi-xwodoX  forms.  But  of  the  wealth  of  modal  expression 
into  which  our  own  verb  has  always  tended  to  develop,  in  a 

*  See  A.  Schleicher,  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Saxon  Academy  (LeipsiC| 
I860),  vol.  iv.  (of  the  phil. -historical  series),  p.  514  sq. 


304  CHARACTERISTICS    OP  [lECT 

synthetic  or  an  analytic  way,  that  of  the  Semites  hag 
generated  very  little  ;  its  proneness  is  rather  to  the  multi- 
plication of  such  distinctions  as  are  called  conjugational, 
to  the  characterizing  of  the  verbal  action  as  in  its  nature 
transitive,  cau^al,  intensive,  iterative,  conative,  reflexive,  or 
the  like :  thus,  aatala  meaning  '  he  killed,'  q^itlala  means 
'  he  killed  with  violence,  massacred ; '  qrltala,  '  he  tried  to 
kill ; '  aqtala,  '  he  caused  to  kill ;  '  inqatala,  '  he  killed  him- 
self ; '  and  so  on.  Each  Arabic  verb  has  theoretically  fifteen 
such  conjugations  ;  and  near  a  dozen  of  them,  each  with  its 
own  passive,  are  in  tolerably  fi-equent  and  familiar  use  ;  in 
the  other  dialects,  the  scheme  is  less  completely  filled  out. 
Verbal  nouns  and  adjectives,  or  infinitives  and  participles, 
belong  likewise  to  every  conjugation. 

In  their  nouns,  the  Semites  distinguish  only  two  genders, 
masculine  and  feminine.  Tliey  have,  of  course,  the  same 
three  numbers  here  as  in  the  verb.  Distinctions  of  case, 
however,  are  almost  entirely  deficient ;  only  the  Arabic 
makes  a  scanty  separation  of  nominative  and  accusative,  or 
of  nominative,  genitive,  and  accusative  ;  and  opinions  still 
differ  as  to  whether  this  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  separate 
acquisition  made  by  the  Arabic  alone,  or  as  an  original 
possession  of  the  whole  family,  lost  by  the  other  branches: 
the  latter  is  probably  the  correcter  view. 

The  simple  copula,  the  verb  to  be,  is  generally  wanting  in 
the  Semitic  languages  :  for  "  the  man  is  good  "  they  say, 
"  the  man  good  "  (often  with  a  form  of  the  adjective  which 
indicates  tiiat  it  is  used  predicatively,  rather  than  attribu- 
tively), or  "  the  man,  he  good."  They  are  poor  in  connec- 
tives and  particles ;  and  this,  wdth  the  deficiency  of  modal 
forms  in  the  verb,  gives  to  their  syntax  a  peculiar  character 
of  simplicity  and  baldness  :  the  Semite  strings  his  assertions 
together,  just  putting  one  after  the  other,  with  an  and  or  a 
but  interposed,  where  the  Indo-European  twines  his  into  a 
harmoniously  proportioned  and  many-membered  period. 
The  same  stiffness  and  rigidity  which  these  languages  show 
in  respect  to  word-development  appears  also  in  their  develop- 
ment of  signification.  While  it  is  characteristic  of  our 
mode  of  s|  eech  that  we  use  such  words  as  comj)rehend,  under' 


VIII.]  SEMITIC    LANGUAGE.  COS 

stand,  forgive,  as  if  they  originally  and  always  meant  just 
what  we  employ  them  to  express — not  giving  a  thought  to 
the  metaphor,  often  striking,  or  even  startling,  which  they 
contain — in  the  Semitic,  the  metaphor  usually  shows  plaiiily 
through,  and  cannot  be  lost  sight  of.  The  language  of  the 
Semite,  then,  is  rather  pictorial,  forcible,  vivid,  than  adapted 
to  calm  and  reasoning  philosophy. 

The  various  dialects  of  this  family  stand  in  a  very  close 
relationship  with  one  another,  hardly  presenting  such  differ- 
ences even  as  are  found  within  the  limits  of  a  single  branch 
of  the  Indo-European  family :  they  are  to  one  another  like 
German,  Dutch,  and  Swedish,  for  example,  rather  than  like 
German,  Welsh,  and  Persian.  This  fact,  however,  does  not 
at  all  prove  their  separation  to  have  taken  place  at  a  later 
period  than  that  of  the  Indo-European  branches  ;  for,  during 
its  whole  recorded  history,  Semitic  speech  has  shown  itself 
far  less  variable,  less  liable  to  phonetic  change  and  corrup- 
tion, less  fertile  of  new  words  and  forms,  of  new  themes  and 
apparent  roots,  than  our  own.  And  the  reasons,  at  least  in 
part,  are  not  difficult  to  discover.  Each  Semitic  word,  as  a 
general  rule,  presents  distinctly  to  the  consciousness  of  him 
who  employs  it  its  three  radical  consonants,  with  its  comple- 
ment of  vowels,  each  one  of  which  has  a  recognized  part  to 
play  in  determining  the  significance^of  the  word,  and  cannot; 
be  altered,  or  exchanged  for  another,  without  violating  a 
governing  rnalogy,  without  defacing  its  intelligibility.  The 
genesis  of  new  forms,  moreover,  is  rendered  well-nigh  im- 
possible by  the  fact  that  such  a  thing  as  a  Semitic  compound 
is  almost  totally  unknown:  the  habit  of  the  language,  from 
its  earliest  period,  has  forbidden  that  combination  of  inde- 
pendent elements  which  is  the  first  step  toward  their  fusion 
into  a  form.  Hence  everything  in  Semitic  speech  wears  au 
aspect  of  peculiar  rigidity  and  persistence.  In  its  primitive 
development — as  development  we  cannot  but  believe  it  to 
have  been,  however  little  comprehensible  by  us — it  assumed 
RO  marked  and  individual  a  type  that  it  has  since  been  com- 
paratively exempt  from  variation.  In  no  other  family  of 
human  speech  would  it  be  possible  that  the  most  antique 
end  original  of  its  dialects,  the  fullest  in  its  forms,  tl-c  mc3t 

20 


306  RELATION    OF    SEMITIC  [lECT. 

uncoiTupted  in  its  phonetic  structure,  the  most  faitliful 
representative  of  the  ideal  type  inherent  in  them  all,  should 
be  the  younge.st  of  their  number.  But  such  is  the  character 
of  the  classical  Arabic,  whose  earliest  literary  monuments 
are  from  fifteen  to  twenty  centuries  later  than  tliose  of  the 
Hebrew  and  Assyrian.  There  is  reason,  however,  it  should 
be  remarked,  to  suspect  that  the  Hebrew  as  we  have  it  does 
not  in  all  points  truly  represent  the  language  of  the  earliest 
period  of  Hebrew  his^tory,  that  it  has  both  partaken  of  the 
modernization  of  the  popular  tongue,  and  suffered  some  dis- 
tortion in  the  hands  of  the  grammarians  from  whom  we 
receive  it.  The  spoken  vernaculars  of  the  present  day, 
while  they  exhibit  something  of  the  same  character  as  the 
modern  Indo-European  dialects,  in  the  abbreviation  of  words, 
the  loss  of  inflectional  forms,  and  the  obscuration  of  etymo- 
logical relations,  yet  do  so  in  a  much  less  degree.  The 
modern  Syriac  of  Orumiah  has  decidedly  more  of  the  aspect 
of  a  European  analytic  language  than  any  other  existing 
dialect  of  its  family,  and  even  more  than,  a  few  years  ago, 
Semitic  scholars  were  willing  to  believe  possible.  But  its 
predecessor,  the  ancient  Syriac,  had  been  itself  distinguished 
by  like  peculiarities  among  the  contemporaneous  and  older 
dialects  ;  having  felt,  perhaps,  the  modifying  influence  of 
the  strange  peoples  and  cultures  by  which  Syria  was  shut 
in,  invaded,  and  more  tFian  once  sui)dued. 

It  may  be  hoped  that  wider  and  dee])er  study  will  succeed 
one  day  in  casting  additional  light  u'pon  the  diiliculties  of 
Semitic  lingfuistic  history.  The  dialect  which  is  now  in 
process  of  construction  out  of  the  recently  discovered  cunei- 
form monuments  is  claimed  to  possess  some  peculiar  charac- 
teristics, yet  it  appears  to  be  too  decidedly  accordant  with 
the  rest  in  its  general  structure  to  play  other  than  a  subor- 
dinate ])art,  by  farther  illustrating  that  part  of  the  course 
of  development  with  which  we  are  already  more  or  less 
familiar.  It  is  confidently  claimed,  however,  by  some  lin- 
guistic scholars  (although  as  confidently  denied  by  others), 
that  the  ancient  tongue  of  Egypt,  and  a  considerable  group 
of  the  'an^^uages  of  northern  Africa,  have  traces,  still  dis- 
tinctly visible,  of  a  far  remoter  connection  with  this  family 


nil.]  ASD    IXDO-EUROPEAX    LANGUAGE.  307 

a  counection  anterior  to  the  full  elaboration  of  the  funda- 
mental peculiarities  of  Semitic  language  -which  we  have  been 
considering:.  If  this  claim  shall  be  established  bv  maturer 
investin:ation,  there  will  be  reason  to  look  for  important 
revelations  as  the  result  of  comparisons  made  between  the 
two  classes.  The  often-asserted  relationship  between  the 
beginnings  of  Indo-European  and  of  Semitic  speech  does 
not  at  present  offer  any  appreciable  promise  of  valuable  light 
to  be  thrown  upon  their  joint  and  respective  history.  It 
must  be  evident,  I  think,  from  the  foregoing  exposition,  that 
the  whole  fabric  and  style  of  these  two  families  of  language 
is  so  discordant,  that  any  theory  which  assumes  their  joint 
development  out  of  the  radical  stage,  the  common  growth  of 
their  grammatical  systems,  is  wholly  excluded.  If  corre- 
Bpondence  theicbe  between  them,  it  must  lie  in  their  roots, 
and  it  must  have  existed  before  the  special  working-over  of 
the  Semitic  routs  into  their  present  form.  It  will  be  time, 
then,  to  talk  uf  the  signs  of  Indo-European  and  Semitic 
unity  when  tho  earliest  process  of  Semitic  growth  is  better 
understood,  its  effects  distinguished  from  the  yet  earlier 
material  upon  ^\hich  they  were  wrought.  Against  so  deep 
and  pervading  a  discordance,  the  surface  analogies  hitherto 
brought  to  light  have  no  convincing  weight.  Tlie  identifi- 
cation is  a  very  alluring  theme :  the  near  agreement  of  the 
peoples  speaking  these  two  classes  oT  languages  in  respect  to 
physical  structure  and  mental  capacity,  their  position  as  the 
two  great  white  races,  joint  leaders  in  the  world's  history, 
taken  in  connection  with  their  geographical  neighbourhood 
and  an  apparent  agreement  between  the  traditions  held  by 
some  nations  of  each  touching  their  earliest  homes  and  fates, 
are  inducements  which  have  spurred  on  many  a  linguist  to 
search  for  verbal  and  radical  coincidences  in  the  tongues  of 
both,  and  to  regard  with  a  degree  of  credence  such  as  he 
appeared  to  find — while,  nevertheless,  if  the  same  coinci- 
dences were  found  to  exist,  along  with  the  same  differences, 
between  our  languages  and  those  of  some  congeries  of  Poly- 
nesian or  African  tribes,  they  would  at  once  be  dismissed  as 
of  no  value  or  account.  To  claim,  then,  that  the  common 
descent  of  Indo-European  and  Semitic  races  has  been  proved 

20* 


308  SEMITIC    SPEECH    AND    CHARACTER.  [lECT. 

by  the  evidence  of  their  speech  is  totally  unjustifiable  ;  the 
utmost  which  can  be  asserted  is  that  language  afforda 
certain  indications,  of  doubtful  value,  wliich,  taken  along 
with  certain  other  ethnological  considerations,  also  of  ques- 
tionable pertinency,  furnish  ground  for  suspecting  an  ulti- 
mate relationship.  Tlie  question,  iu  short,  is  not  yet  ri[!e 
for  settlement.  "Whether  the  better  comprehension  of  the 
history  of  Semitic  speech  which  further  research  may  give 
will  enable  us  to  determine  it  with  confidence,  need  not 
here  be  considered  :  while  such  a  result  is  certainly  not  to 
be  expected  with  confidence,  it  may  perhaps  be  looked  for 
with  hope. 

To  discuss  the  Semitic  character,  and  to  show  how  in  its 
striking  features  it  accords  with  Semitic  speech,  would  be  a 
most  interesting  task,  but  lies  aside  from  the  proper  course 
of  our  inquiries.  Through  the  might  of  their  religious  ideas, 
this  people  have  governed,  and  will  continue  to  govern,  the 
civilized  world  ;  but  in  other  respects,  in  that  gradual  work- 
ing-out of  ethnic  endowment  and  capacity  which  constitutes 
the  history  of  a  race,  they  have  shown  themselves  decidedly 
inferior  to  the  other  great  ruling  family,  and  their  forms  of 
speech  undeniably  partake  of  this  inferiority.  The  time  is 
long  past  when  reverence  for  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  as  tlio 
Book  of  books  could  carry  with  it  the  corollary  that  tho 
Hebrew  tongue  was  the  most  perfect  and  the  oldest  of  all 
known  languages,  and  even  the  mother  of  the  rest :  it  is  now 
fully  recognized  as  merely  one  in  a  contracted  and  very 
peculiar  group  of  sister  dialects,  crowded  together  in  a  corner 
of  Asia  and  the  adjacent  parts  of  Africa,  possessing  striking 
excellences,  but  also  marked  with  striking  defects,  and  not 
yet  proved  genetically  connected  with  any  other  existing 
group. 

The  family  of  languages  to  which  we  have  next  to  direct 
Dur  attention  is  one  of  much  wider  geogra})hical  range,  and 
more  varied  linguistic  character.  As  usually  constructed,  it 
covers  with  its  branches  the  whole  northern  portion  of  the 
eastern  continent,  through  both  Europe  and  Asia,  together 
with  the  greater  ])art  of  central  Asia,  and  portions  of  Asiatic 
and  European  territory   lying    still    further    south.      It    ii 


VIII.]  SCYTHIAN    LANGUAGE.  308 

known  by  many  different  names  :  some  call  it  tlie  Altaic,  or 
tlie  Ural- Altaic,  family,  from  the  chains  of  mountains  which 
are  supposed  to  have  served  as  centres  of  dispersion  to 
its  tribes  ;  others  style  it,  from  one  or  other  of  its  principal 
branches,  the  Mongolian,  or  the  Tataric  ;  the  appellation 
Turanian  has  also  won  great  currency  within  no  long  time, 
owing  to  its  adoption  by  one  or  two  very  conspicuous  au- 
thorities in  linguistic  ethnology,  although  recommended 
neither  by  its  derivation  nor  its  original  application  (we 
shall  speak  more  particularly  of  both  later)  ;  Scythian, 
finally,  is  a  title  which  it  has  sometimes  received,  taken  from 
the  name  by  which  the  Greeks  knew  the  wild  nomad  races  of 
the  extreme  north-east,  which  were  doubtless  in  part,  at 
least,  of  this  kindred — and  the  designation  Scythian  we  will 
here  employ,  as,  upon  the  whole,  though  far  from  being  unex- 
ceptionable, best  answering  our  purpose. 

Five  principal  branches  compose  the  family.  The  first  of 
them,  the  Ugrian*  or  Fiuno-Hungarian,  is  almost  wholly  Eu- 
ropean in  its  position  and  known  history.  It  includes  the 
language  of  the  Laplanders,  the  race  highest  in  latitude,  but 
lowest  in  stature  and  in  developed  capacity,  of  any  in  Eu- 
rope ;  that  of  the  Finns  in  north-western  Russia,  with  related 
dialects  in  Esthonia  and  Livonia;  those  of  several  tribes,  of  no 
great  numbers  or  consequence,  stretching  from  the  southern 
Ural  mountains  toward  the  interior  of  Eussia  and  down  the 
Volga — as  the  Permians,  Siryanians,  "Wotiaks,  Chereraisses, 
and  Mordwins  ;  and  the  tongue  of  the  Hungarians  or  Mag- 
yars, far  in  the  south,  with  those  of  their  kindred,  the 
Ostiaks«and  AYoguls,  in  and  beyond  the  central  chain  of  the 
Ural — which  w^as  the  region  whence  the  rude  ancestors  of 
the  brave  and  noble  race  w^ho  now  people  Hungary  fought 
their  way  down  to  the  Danube,  within  the  historical  period, 
or  hardly  a  thousand  years  ago. 

The  second  branch  is  the  Samoyedic,  nearest  akin  with  the 
Ugrian,  yet  apparently  independent  of  it.  It  occupies  the 
territory  along  the  northern  coast  of  Europe  and  Asia,  from 
the  White  Sea  across  the  lower  Yenisei,  and  almost  to  the 
Lena,  one  of  the  most  barren  and  inhospitable  tracts  of  the 
whole  continent ;  while  some  of  its  dialects  are  spoken  in  the 


310  BRANCHES    OF  [lBv^. 

mountains  to  the  south,  about  the  head  waters  of  the  Yenisei — 
probably  indicating  the  region  whence  the  Samoyed  tribes  were 
driven,  or  wandered,  northward,  following  the  river-courses, 
and  spreading  out  upon  the  shores  of  the  northern  ocean. 
Y/hat  is  known  of  them  and  their  speech  is  mainly  the  fruit 
of  the  devoted  labours  of  the  intrepid  traveller  Castren.  The 
Samojed  dialects  are  destitute  of  literary  cultivation  and  of 
records,  and  the  wild  people  who  speak  them  are  without  in- 
terest or  consequence,  in  the  present  or  the  past,  save  simply 
as  human  beings.  No  other  branch  of  the  family  has  so 
little  to  recommend  it  to  our  notice. 

The  third  branch  includes  the  languages  spoken  by  the 
Turkish  tribes,  a  race  which  has  played  a  part  in  modern 
history  not  altogether  insignificant.  Their  earliest  wander- 
ings and  conquests  are  doubtfully  read  in  the  annals  of  the 
Chinese  empire,  and  their  long  struggles  with  the  Iranian 
peoples  in  their  border-lands  are  conspicuous  themes  of  Per- 
sian heroic  tradition.  It  was  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  cen- 
turies that  they  finally  broke  forth  from  their  dreary  abodes 
on  the  great  plateau  of  central  Asia ;  falling  upon  the 
eastern  provinces  of  the  already  decaying  Mohammedan 
caliphate,  they  hastened  its  downfall  and  divided  its  inherit- 
ance ;  and  their  victorious  arms  were  carried  steadilv  west- 
ward,  until,  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  they  were 
masters  of  Constantinople  and  of  all  that  was  left  of  the 
Greek  empire  ;  nor  was  their  progress  toward  the  heart  of 
Europe  checked  but  by  the  most  heroic  and  long-continued 
eflbrte  on  the  part  of  Magyars,  Grermans,  and  Slavoniang. 
Their  modern  history,  and  tlieir  present  precarious  position 
upon  the  border  of  Euro])e,  are  too  well  known  to  call  for 
more  than  an  allusion.  The  subdivisions  of  the  branch  are 
numerous,  and  they  cover  a  territory  of  very  wide  extent, 
reaching  from  the  eastern  edge  of  the  Austrian  dominions, 
through  Asia  Minor,  Tatary,  and  Chinese  Tatary,  to  beyond 
the  centre  of  the  Asiatic  continent,  while  their  outliers  are 
found  even  along  the  Lena,  to  its  mouth,  in  nortiicrnmost 
Siberia.  They  are  classed  together  in  three  principal  groups  : 
first,  the  northern,  of  which  the  Kirgliiz,  Bashkir,  and  Yakut 
a^  'i   the  most  important  members  ;    they  occu^iy  (with  the 


VIII.]  SCYTHIAN    LANGUAGE.  811 

exception  of  tlie  Yakut  in  the  extreme  north-east)  southern 
Siberia  and  Tatary,  between  the  Volga  and  the  Yenisei ; 
second,  the  south-eastern,  including  the  Uigurs,  Usbeks, 
Turkomans,  etc.,  and  ranging  from  the  southern  Caspian, 
eastward  to  the  middle  of  the  great  plateau;  third,  the 
western,  stretching  through  northern  Persia,  the  Caucasus, 
the  Crimea,  and  Asia  Minor,  to  the  Bosphorus,  and  scattered 
:n  patches  amid  the  varied  populations  which  fill  the  Europcjai 
dominions  of  the  Sultan.  This  division,  however,  is  rather 
geographical  than  linguistic  :  the  nearer  mutual  relations  of 
the  different  dialects  are  still,  in  great  part,  to  be  deter- 
mined. They  compose  together  a  very  distinct  body  of 
nearly  kindred  forms  of  speech,  not  differing  from  one 
another  in  anything  like  the  same  degree  as  the  Ugrian  lan- 
guages. It  is  even  claimed,  although  with  questionable  truth, 
that  a  Yakut  of  the  Lena  and  a  man  of  the  lower  orders 
at  Constantinople  could  still  make  shift  to  communicate  to- 
gether. 

The  fourth  branch  of  Scythian  language  is  the  Mongolian. 
The  Mongols,  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  ran  a 
wonderful  career  of  conquest,  overwhelming  nearly  all  the 
monarchies  of  Asia,  and  reducing  even  the  eastern  countries 
of  Europe  to  subjection.  The  Mongol  emperor  Kublai 
Khan,  reigning  from  the  borders  of  Germany  to  the  coasts 
of  south-eastern  Asia,  with  his  capital  in  China,  the  most 
populous  and  at  that  time  well-nigh  the  most  enlightened 
country  of  the  earth,  governed  such  a  realm  as  the  world 
never  saw,  before  or  since.  But  the  unwieldy  mass  fell  in 
pieces  almost  as  rapidly  as  it  had  been  brought  together. 
The  horribly  devastating  wars  by  which  Mongol  dominion 
was  established  were  neither  attended  nor  followed  by  any 
compensating  benefits :  they  were  a  tempest  of  barbarian 
fury,  to  be  thought  of  only  with  a  shudder,  and  with  grati- 
tude for  its  brevity.  The  Mongols  themselves  were  but  the 
leaders  in  the  movement,  which  was  in  great  part  executed 
by  hordes  of  Turkish  descent.  A  Mongol  dynasty  held  pos- 
session of  the  Chinese  throne  for  a  century,  until  expelled, 
about  A.D.  1365,  by  a  successful  revolt  of  the  native  race. 
At   present,  the   still  powerful   remains  of  this  once  so  le- 


312  SCYTHIAN    LANGUAGES    AND  [LECT, 

doubtable  people  are  living  in  quiet  and  insignificance,  as 
dependents    of    the    Chinese    empire.       Their    territory    ia 
bounded  in  the  south  by  tlie  Tibetan  frontier,  and  extends 
thence  eastward  to  the  border  of  China,  northward  to  lake 
Dzaisang,  north-eastward  to  beyond  lake  Baikal,  and  to  the 
edge  of  Manchuria,  including  the  upper  waters  of  the  Lena 
and  the  Amoor.      Their  scattered  fragments,  too,  are  left  lu 
almost  every  country  westward  to  the  Volga,  and  a  consider- 
able colony  of  them  are  to  be  found  upon  both  sides  of  the 
Volga,  to   some   distance   above   its   mouth.     The   Khalkas, 
Kalmucks,  and   Buriats  are  the  most  notable  of  their  tribes. 
The  fifth  and  last  branch  is  called  the  Tungusic.     It  oc- 
cupies a  broad  tract  of  north-eastern  Asia,  from  the  frontier 
of  Cliina   on  tlie  north  to  the  Arctic  Ocean,  and  from  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Yenisei   almost  to   Kamchatka.      Its 
most   conspicuous   dialect,  the  Manchu,   belongs    to   tribes 
which   have  established  a  claim  upon  the  attention   of  the 
world  by  their  conquest  of  China  a  little  more  than  two  cen- 
turies ago    (a.d.    1G44).       In   wielding  the    forces   of  that 
mighty  empire,  they  long  displayed  a  consummate  ability  ; 
but   their  administration,  attacked  at   once   by  foreign  en- 
croachmeut  and  domestic  revolt,  has  now  for  some  time  been 
marked  with  fatal  weakness :   Scythian  power  seems  at  prc- 
Bcnt  not   less   decadent  in   the   extreme   East  than   in  the 
West.     This  is  not  the  first  time  that  Tungusian  races  have 
built    up    their    power    U])on    a    Chinese   foundation.     The 
powerful  dynasties  of  Khitau  and  Kin,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  tenth  century  to  near  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth, 
held  a  great  part  of  northern  China  in  subjection,  though 
not  to  the  entire  subversion  of  the  empire :  like  the  moderji 
IManchus,  they  adopted  and  perpetuated  the  Chinese  institu- 
tions and  culture.     The  realm  of  the  Kin  was  one  of  the 
many  which  went   down  before  the  Mongolian  onset.      The 
Manchus    call  by   tlie  name    Orochon,  '  reindeer-possessors,' 
all  Tungusian  tribes  excepting  their  own  :  respecting  their 
mutual  relations  little  is  known  in  detail :  they  are  depend- 
ences partly  of  the  Chinese  empire,  ])artly  of  the  Russian. 

The  brief  survey  of  the  history  of  the  Scythian  races  with 
which  we  have  thus  accompanied  our  statement  of  their  di« 


VIII.]  SCYTHIAN    LITERATURES.  313 

visions  is  sufficient  to  set  fortli  clearly  the  subordinate  part 
they  ha\-e  played  iu  human  affairs.  AYar  and  devastation 
have  been  the  sphere  in  wliich  their  activity  has  chiefly 
manifested  itself.  Some  of  them  have  shown  for  a  time  no 
mean  capacity  in  governing  and  managing  their  conquests. 
But  they  have  had  no  aptitude  for  helping  the  advance  of 
civilization,  and  but  little,  in  general,  even  for  appropriating 
the  knowledge  and  culture  of  their  subjects  or  their  neigh- 
bours. The  Manchus  have  written  their  language  during 
Bome  centuries  past ;  but  they  have  nothing  which  deserves 
the  name  of  a  national  literature  ;  their  books  are  transla- 
tions or  servile  imitations  of  Chinese  works.  The  Mongol 
literature  goes  back  to  the  thirteenth  century,  the  period 
when  the  race  rose  to  importance  in  history,  but  is  almost 
equally  scanty.  The  Mongol  alphabet  was  the  original  of 
the  present  Manchu,  and,  in  its  turn,  was  derived  from  that 
of  the  Uigur  Turks ;  the  latter,  again,  goes  back  to  the 
Syriac,  having  been  brought  into  central  Asia  1  y  I^estorian 
missionaries.  The  Uigurs^  the  easternmost  members  of  the 
family  of  Turkish  tribes,  seem  to  have  been  the  first  among 
them  to  acquire  and  use  the  art  of  writing :  their  alphabet 
is  said  to  be  mentioned  in  Chinese  annals  of  the  fifth  cen- 
tury, and  their  reputation  for  learning  won  them  considera- 
tion and  high  employment  even  down  to  the  era  of  the 
Mongolian  outbreak  ;  but  they,  their  civilization,  and  their 
literature  have  since  passed  so  nearly  out  of  existence  that 
it  has  even  been  possible  to  raise  the  question  whether  they 
were,  in  fact,  uf  Turkish  kindred  and  speech.  A^ery  scanty 
fragments  of  what  are  supposed  to  have  been  their  literary 
productions,  of  uncertain  age,  are  still  preserved  to  us.  The 
general  conversion  of  the  Turkish  tribes  to  IMohammeJan- 
ism  led  to  the  crowding;  out  of  their  ancient  alphabet  by  the 
Arabic.  From  the  south-eastern  division  of  the  same 
branch,  generally  called  the  Jagataic,  or  Oriental  Turkish, 
we  have  a  literature  of  some  value,  dating  from  the  fifteenth 
and  sixteenth  centuries,  but  not  continued  later  :  its  most 
important  work  is  the  autobiography  of  the  emperor  Baher, 
that  extraordinary  man  who  early  in  the  sixteenth  century 
conquered  India,  founding  there  the  Mogul  dynasty,  the  fiaai 


31-i  SCYTHIAN  LITERATURES.  [lkOT. 

extinction  of  which  we  have  ourselves  witnessed  within  the 
past  few  years.  The  western  most  Turkish  race,  the  con- 
querors of  Constantinople,  usually  known  by  the  distinctive 
name  of  Osmanlis,  or  Ottomans  (both  words  are  corruptions 
of  the  name  of  their  leader,  Othman),  have  a  very  rich  and 
abundant  literature,  cohering  the  whole  period  from  the  rise 
of  the  race  to  power  in  the  fourteenth  century  down  to  our 
own  time.  It  is^  however,  of  only  secondary  interest,  aa 
being  founded  on  Persian  and  Arabic  models,  and  containing 
little  that  is  distinctively  national  in  style  and  spirit.  The 
learned  dialect,  too,  in  which  it  is  written,  is  crowded  full  of 
Persian  and  Arabic  words,  often  to  the  nearly  total  exclusion 
of  native  Turkish  niaterial.  In  the  Finno-Hunsjarian  branch 
of  the  family,  finally,  there  is  the  same  paucity  of  literary 
records.  In  Hunsfarv,  after  its  conversion  to  Eoman  Chris- 
tianity  (about  a.d.  1000),  Latin  was  for  a  long  time  the 
almost  exclusive  medium  of  learned  communication  and  com- 
position. The  Reformation,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  favoured 
the  uprising  of  a  national  literature,  in  the  vernaculai 
tongue ;  but  Austrian  policy  checked  and  thwarted  its  de- 
velopment ;  and  a  renewed  start,  taken  about  the  beginning 
of  the  present  century,  was  baffled  when  the  remains  of 
Hungarian  liberty  Avere  trampled  out  in  1849.  Finnish 
written  literature  is  still  more  recent,  but  boasts  at  least  one 
work  of  a  high  order  of  interest,  of  a  wholly  native  and 
original  stamp  :  the  Kalevala,  composed  of  half-mythical, 
half-legendary  songs,  which  have  been  handed  down  by  tra- 
dition, apparently  for  niany  centuries,  from  generation  to 
generation  of  the  Finnish  people.  No  other  Ugrian  race 
possesses  a  literature. 

It  is  claimed  of  late,  however,  by  those  who  are  engaged 
in  constructing  linguistic,  ethnological,  and  political  history 
out  of  the  just  disentombed  records  of  Assyrian  culture  and 
art,  that  sufticient  evidence  is  found  to  compel  the  belief 
that  neither  Indo-Europeans  nor  Semites,  but  some  third 
race,  were  the  first  occupants  and  owners  of  the  soil,  and  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  culture  which  was  adopted  and  devel- 
vpciX  there  by  the  other  races,  as  they  later,  one  after 
anotlicr,  aucceeded  to  the  supremacy ;  and  some    maintain 


VIII.]  UNITY    OF    SCYTHIAN    FAMILY.  315 

furtlier  tliat  the  language  of  this  race  shows  it  to  have  been 
Scythian,  a  member  of  the  westernmost,  or  Finno-Hungarian, 
bianch  of  the  family.  By  others  the  Scythian  character  oi 
the  dialect  is  explicitly  denied.  The  discussion  is  at  present 
in  the  hands  of  too  few  persons,  and  those  too  little  versed 
in  Scythian  philology,  to  admit  of  a  definite  and  satisfactory 
conclusion ;  and  meanwhile  we  are  justified  in  regarding 
v>  ith  extreme  incredulity  any  theory  which  puts  Scythian 
races  in  the  position  of  originators  of  an  independent  civiliz- 
ation, and  teachers  of  Semites  and  Indo-Europeans.  Such 
a  position  is  wholly  inconsistent  with  what  is  known  of  their 
history  elsewhere,  and  would  constitute  a  real  anomaly  in 
ethnology  ;  while  we  are  not  authorized  utterly  to  deny  its 
possibility,  we  certainly  have  the  right  to  demand  full  and 
unequivocal  evidence  before  we  yield  it  our  belief  The 
fact^if  fact  it  be — is  of  a  revolutionary  character,  and  must 
fight  its  way  to  acknowledgment. 

The  linguistic  tie,  now,  which  binds  together  the  widely 
scattered  branches  of  this  great  family,  is  a  somewhat  loose 
and  feeble  one,  consisting  less  in  the  traceable  correspond- 
ence of  material  and  forms,  the  possession  of  the  same  roots 
and  the  same  inflections,  than  in  a  correspondence  of  the 
style  of  structure,  of  the  modes  of  apprehension  and  expres- 
sion of  grammatical  relations.  Each  great  branch  forms  by 
itself  a  group  as  distinct  as  is,  for  instance,  the  G-ermauic  or 
the  Slavonic  in  our  own  family  ;  but  there  is  no  such  palpa- 
ble and  unmistakable  evidence  of  kinship  between  Ugrian, 
Turkish,  Mongol,  and  Manchu,  as  between  Grerman,  E-ussian, 
Greek,  and  Sanskrit.  It  is,  to  no  small  extent,  those  who 
know  least  in  detail  respecting  the  languages  of  the  family 
who  are  most  ready  to  assert  and  defend  their  historical 
connection :  and,  on  the  other  hand,  Castren,  himself  a 
Einn,  and  whose  long  and  devoted  labours  have  taught  us 
more  respecting  them  than  has  been  brought  to  light  by 
any  other  man,  ventures*  to  assert  with  confidence  only  the 
demonstrable  linguistic  relationship  of  Ugrian,  Samoyed, 
and  Turkish,  and  regards  the  inclusion  of  Mongol  and  Man- 

*  Ethnological  Lectures   respecting    the  Altaic   Eaces   (St    Petersburg, 
1867),  p.  94. 


316  AGGLUTINATIVE  CHARACTER  [lECI 

chii  within  tlie  same  circle  as  still  questionable.  Bat  even 
between  the  three  former,  the  material  evidence  is  but  weak 
and  scanty,  as  compared  with  that  presented  in  the  Indo- 
European  idioms,  of  which  specimens  were  given  above,  in 
the  fifth  lecture  ;  no  investigator  has  ever  been  able  to 
draw  up  tables  of  pervading  correspondences  in  the  Scy- 
thian tongues,  which  should  at  once  illustrate  and  prove 
their  genetic  unity.  It  is  possible,  of  course,  that  the  races 
who  speak  these  tongues  may  have  been  separated  longer 
than  the  Indo-European,  enough  longer  for  a  more  sweeping 
effacement  of  the  evidence  of  their  common  descent ;  or, 
again,  that  the  lack  of  those  remains  of  dialects  of  great 
antiquity  which  so  aid  our  researches  into  the  history  of  our 
own  family  of  speech  is  what  prevents  our  recognition  of  the 
links  that  bind  the  Scythian  languages  into  one.  It  may  be, 
too,  that  these  have  possessed  as  much  more  variable  and 
mobile  a  character  than  the  Indo-European  forms  of  speech 
as  the  latter  than  the  Semitic  :  this,  indeed,  has  been  repeat- 
edly assumed  to  be  true,  and  even  defended  by  theoretical 
and  a  priori  arguments  ;  but  I  am  not  aware  that  it  has  ever 
been  established  by  proper  linguistic  evidence  and  reasoning, 
and  it  is  strongly  opposed  by  the  coherence  of  the  several 
branches,  and  the  near  accordance  of  the  dialects  composing 
them.  And,  were  either  or  both  of  these  possible  explana- 
tions of  the  discordances  of  the  Scythian  tongues  proved 
true,  they  would  by  no  means  settle  the  question  in  favour 
of  the  unity  of  the  family  ;  they  would  simply  forbid  us  to 
maintain  too  dogmatically  that  the  tongues  were  not  and  could 
not  be  related  as  members  of  one-  ftimily  ;  before  consenting 
positively  to  regard  them  as  thus  related,  we  should  still  bo 
entitled  to  demanil  tangible  evidences  ;  if  not  correspond- 
ences of  material,  then  at  least  definite  and  distinctive  cor- 
respondences of  form.  And,  as  already  intimated,  a  mor- 
phological resemblance  is  the  ground  on  which  the  claim 
of  Scythian  unity  is  chiefly  founded  ;  their  fundamental 
common  characteristic  is  tl  at  they  follow  what  is  styled  an 
ayglutinative  type  of  structure.  That  is  to  say,  the  elements 
out  of  which  tlieir  words  are  I'ormed  are  loosely  put  together, 
instead  of  being  closely  compacted,  or  fused  into    ae  ;  thoy 

3. 


VIII.]  OF    SCYTHIAN    LANGUAGES.  317 

are  aggregated,  rather  than  integrated  ;  tlie  root  or  tlieme  is 
lield  apart  from  the  affixes,  and  these  from  one  another,  with 
a  distinct  apprehension  of  their  separate  individuality.  Aa 
Professor  Miiller  well  expresses  it,  while  Indo-European 
language,  in  putting  two  roots  together  to  compose  a  form, 
sinks  the  individuality  of  both,  the  Scythian  sinks  that  of 
but  one,  the  suffix.  The  process  is  not,  in  its  first  stages, 
diverse  in  the  two  families,  since  every  Indo-European  form 
began  with  being  a  mere  collocation,  and,  in  a  large  propor- 
tion of  cases,  the  root  maintains  to  the  end  its  integrity  of 
form  and  meaning  :  the  difference  is  one  of  degree  rather 
than  of  kind ;  of  the  extension  and  effect,  rather  than  the 
essential  nature,  of  a  mode  of  formation  :  and  yet,  it  is  a 
palpable  and  an  important  difference,  when  we  compare  the 
general  structure  of  two  languages,  one  out  of  each  family. 

The  simple  possession  in  common  of  an  agglutinative  cha- 
racter, as  thus  defined,  would  certainly  be  a  very  insufficient 
indication  of  the  common  parentage  of  the  Scythian  tongues  ; 
mere  absence  of  inflection  would  be  a  characteristic  far  too 
general  and  indeterminate  to  prove  anything  respecting 
them.  They  do,  however,  present  some  striking  points  of 
agreement  in  the  style  and  manner  of  their  agglutination, 
such  as  might  supplement  and  powerfully  aid  the  convincing 
force  of  a  body  of  material  correspondences  which  should  be 
found  wanting  in  desired  fullness.  The  most  important  of 
these  structural  accordances  are  as  follows. 

In  the  Scythian  languages,  derivation  by  prefixes  is  un- 
known ;  the  radical  syllable  always  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
word,  followed  by  the  formative  elements.  The  root,  too,  to 
whatever  extent  it  may  receive  the  accretion  of  suffixes, 
itself  remains  pure  and  unchanged,  neither  fused  with  theui, 
nor  euphonically  affected  by  them :  throughout  the  whole 
body  of  its  derivatives,  it  has  one  unvarying  and  easily  re- 
cognized form.  It  would  appear,  however,  on  theoretical 
grounds,  that  this  fundamental  characteristic,  of  the  inviola- 
bility of  the  Scythian  roots,  must  be  admitted  with  some 
grains  of  allowance  :  since,  if  root  be  kept  absolutely  sepa- 
rate from  ending,  and  changeless,  we  should,  on  the  one 
hand,  look  for  a  much  closer  coincidence  of  roots  than  we 


318  CHARACTERISTICS    OF  [lECT 

actually  find  between  tlie  different  dialects  ;  and,  on  the  ottei 
hand,  the  i:;rand  means  of  d^^'elopment  of  new  words  and 
roots  would  be  cut  off,  and  linguistic  gro\vth  almost  stifled. 
While,  then,  in  general  the  root  receives  no  modificatioT] 
from  the  endings,  the  latter,  on  the  contrary,  are  modified 
by  the  root,  in  a  way  which  constitutes  the  most  striking 
phonetic  peculiarity  of  the  family.  The  vowels,  namely,  are 
divided  into  two  classes,  heavy  (a,  o,  u,  etc.),  and  light  {e,  i, 
u,  etc.),  or  guttural  and  palatal  ;  and,  in  the  suffixes,  only 
vowels  of  the  same  class  with  that  of  the  root,  or  with,  that 
of  the  last  syllable  of  the  root,  if  there  be  more  than  one, 
are  allowed  to  occur.  Hence,  every  suffix  has  two  forms, 
one  with  light  vowel  and  one  with  heavy,  either  of  which  is 
used,  as  circumstances  may  require.  Thus,  in  Turkish,  from 
baba,  '  father,'  comes  baba-lar-um-dan,  '  from  our  fathers,* 
with  heavy  vowels  ;  but  from  dedeh,  '  grandfather,'  with  light 
vowels,  comes  dede-l'V-in-den,  '  from  their  grandfathers '  ; 
al,  '  to  take,'  makes  almak,  alma,  alajah,  while  sev,  '  to  love,' 
makes  sevmeJc,sevme,  sevrjek  :  or,  in  Hungarian,  yuh-asz-nak 
means  '  to  the  shepherd,'  but  kert-esz-nek,  '  to  the  gardener.* 
This  is  usually  called  the  "  law  of  harmonic  sequence  of 
Towels  :  "  it  takes  somewhat  different  forms  in  the  different 
branches,  and  exhibits  niceties  and  intricacies  of  harmonic 
equipoise  into  which  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  enter  :  it  is 
most  elaborately  developed  and  most  strictly  obeyed  in  the 
Turkish  dialects. 

One  or  two  important  general  characteristics  of  the  lan- 
guages of  the  family  are  the  natural  and  direct  results  of 
this  agglutinative  method,  which  attributes  to  each  suffix  a 
distinct  form  and  office,  and  in  which  a  true  feeling  for  WiQ 
unity  of  words  does  not  forbid  an  excessive  accumulation  of 
separate  formative  elements  in  the  same  vocable.  In  the 
first  place,  varieties  and  irregularities  of  conjugation  and  de- 
clension are  almost  unknown  in  Scythian  grammar:  all 
verbs,  all  nouns,  are  inflected  upon  the  same  unvarying 
model ;  every  grammatical  relation  has  its  own  sign,  by 
which  it  is  under  all  circumstances  denoted.  In  the  second 
place,  a  host  of  more  oi*  less  complicated  forms  are  derivable 
by  iuloctioual   processes   fi-om    one    root   or    theme      An 


fill.]  SCYTHIAN    LANGUAGE.  319 

instance  is  the  word  haba-lar-v/m-dan^  given  al)ove,  v.'hicli 
contains  the  possessive  urn,  signifying  '  our,'  besides  the 
plural  ending  lar  and  the  ablative  case-affix  dan.  The 
Turkish  verbs  exemplify  the  same  peculiarity  in  a  much 
more  striking  manner :  thus,  by  appending  to  the  root  one 
or  more  than  one  of  half-a-dozen  modifying  elements,  ex- 
pressing passivity,  reflexiveness,  reciprocity,  causation,  nega- 
tion, and  impossibility,  we  may  form  an  almost  indefinite 
number  of  themes  of  conjugation,  each  possessing  the  com- 
plete scheme  of  temporal  and  modal  forms  :  examples  are, 
from  the  root  sev,  '  love,'  sev-ish-dir-meh,  '  to  cause  to  love 
one  another,'  sev-ish-dir-il-eme-7nek^  '  not  to  be  capable  of 
being  made  to  love  one  another,'  and  so  on. 

Of  the  more  ordinary  inflectional  apparatus,  analogous 
with  that  of  the  tongues  of  our  own  family,  some  of  the 
Scythian  languages  possess  an  abundant  store  :  the  Finnish 
has  a  regular  scheme  of  fifteen  cases  for  its  nouns ;  the 
Hungarian,  one  of  more  than  twenty.  Their  plurals  are 
formed  by  a  separate  pluralizing  suffix  (in  Turkish,  Jer  or 
lar,  as  seen  above),  to  which  then  the  same  case-endings  are 
added  as  to  the  simple  theme  in  the  singular.  No  dis- 
tinction of  grammatical  gender  is  marked.  Verbal  forms  are 
pi-oduced,  as  with  us,  by  personal  endings,  of  pronominal 
origin.  These  are  of  two  kinds,  personal  and  possessive, 
and  are  appended  respectively  to  conjugational  themes  having 
a  participial  and  an  infinitival  significance,  to  names  of  the 
actor  and  of  the  action.  Thus,  from  Turkish  dog-mah, 
'  to  strike,'  through  the  present  participle  dogur,  '  striking,* 
comes  the  present  dogur-um,  *■  striking-I,'  i.e.,  '  I  strike  ;  * 
the  preterit  is  dogd-um,  '  act-of-striking-mine,'  i.e.,  'I  have 
struck  ; '  the  third  person  is  the  simple  theme,  without  suffix, 
as  dogur,  '  he  strikes,'  dogdi,  'he  has  struck  ; '  and  the  addi- 
tion to  tliese  of  the  common  plural  suffix  of  declension 
makes  the  third  persons  plural,  dogur-lar,  '  they  strike,* 
dogdl-ler, '  they  have  struck' — literally,  '  strikers,'  '  stinkings.' 
Such  verbal  forms  are,  then,  essentially  nouns,  taken  in  a 
predicative  sense  ;  the  radical  idea  has  been  made  a  noun  of, 
in  order  to  be  employed  as  a  verb  ;  and  so  much  of  the 
nominal  form  and  character  still  cleaves  to  them,  that  it  must 


320  SCYTHIAN    LANGUAGES.  [lECT. 

be  conceded  that  the  Scythian  tongues  have  not  clearly  I 
npprehended  and  fully  worked  out  the  distinction  of  theso 
two  fundamental  parts  of  speech.  Their  conjugation,  how- 
ever, such  as  it  is,  is  rich  in  temporal  and  modal  distinctions. 
The  root  appears  in  its  naked  form  as  second  person  singular 
imperative. 

Connectives  and  relational  words  are  nearly  unknown  in 
the  languages  of  this  family.  Where  we  should  employ  a 
clause,  they  set  a  case-form  of  a  noun  :  for  example,  "  while 
we  were  going"  is  rendered  in  Turkish  by  git-diy-imiz-de^ 
'in  our  act  of  going  (wenting).'  By  means  of  gerundives 
and  possessives,  the  difterent  members  of  a  period  are  t^-ined 
together  into  a  single  intricate  or  lumbering  statement, 
having  the  principal  verb  regularly  at  the  end,  and  the  deter- 
mining word  followed  by  the  determined,  often  producing  an 
inverted  construction  which  seems  very  strange  to  our  appre- 
hension. 

It  must  not  fail  to  be  observed  that  the  different  branches 
of  this  family  are  not  a  little  discordant  as  regards  the  degree 
of  their  agglutinative  development.  The  Ugrian  dialects, 
especially  the  Hungarian  and  Finnish,  are  the  highest  in 
rank,  being  almost  entitled  to  be  reckoned  as  inflective. 
The  eastern  branches,  the  Mongolian  and  Tungusian,  are  in 
every  way  poorer  and  scantier,  and  the  Manchu  even  verges 
upon  monosyllabic  stiffness,  not  having,  for  example,  so  much 
as  a  distinction  of  number  and  person  in  its  predicative  or 
verbally  employed  words.  The  Turkish,  in  rank  as  in 
geographical  position,  holds  a  middle  place. 

AVhether  the  morphological  correspondences  thus  set 
forth,  along  with  others  less  conspicuous,  which  have  been 
found  to  exist  between  Ugrian,  Samoyed,  Turkish,  Mongol, 
and  Tungusic  languages,  are  of  themselves  sufHcient  to  prove 
these  languages  genetically  allied,  branches  of  one  original 
stock,  may  be  regarded  as  still  an  open  question.  A  wider 
induction,  a  more  thorough  grasp  and  comprehension  of  the 
resemblances  and  dill'erences  of  all  human  speech,  is  pmb- 
alily  needed  ore  linguistic  science  shall  be  justified  in 
pronouncing  a  confident  decision  of  a  question  so  recondite. 
Wlietb.er,  again,  coincidences  in  the  actual  material  of  the 


VIII.]  THEIR   CONNECTION    DOUBTFUL.  o21 

same  tongues  have  been  broug^it  out  in  sufficient  number,  ot 
of  a  sulBcieutly  unequivocal  cliaracter,  to  constitute,  along 
with  these  correspondences  of  form,  such  an  argument  io 
favour  of  tlie  unity  of  the  family  as  may  be  deemed  satis- 
factory and  accepted,  is  also  a  matter  for  doubt.  It  is  safest 
to  regard  the  classification  at  present  as  a  provisional  one, 
and  to  leave  to  future  researches  its  establishment  or  its 
overthrow.  The  separate  investigation  and  mutual  com- 
parison of  many  of  the  dialects  is  as  yet  only  very  imper- 
fectly made,  or  even  hardly  commenced  :  farther  and  more 
penetrating  study  may  strengthen  and  render  indissoluble  the 
tie  that  is  already  claimed  to  bind  together  the  eastern  and 
western  branches  ;  but  it  may  aW  shcT*"  their  connection  to 
be  merely  imaginary. 


822 


LECTUEE  IX. 

Uncertainties  of  genetic  classitication  of  languages.  "  Turanian" 
family.  Dravidian  group.  North-eastern  Asiatic.  Monosylhibio 
tongues:  Chinese,  Farther  Indian,  Tibetan,  etc.  Malay-Polynertian 
and  Melanesian  families.  Egyptian  language  and  its  asserted  kin- 
dred  :  Hamitic  family.  Languages  of  southern  and  central  Africa. 
Languages  of  America  ;  i>roblem  of  derivation  of  American  races. 
Isolated  tongues  :  Basque,  Caucasian,  etc. 

In  the  last  lecture,  we  began  a  survey  of  the  p^eneral 
dividing  lines  of  human  speech,  an  enumeration  and  descrip- 
tion of  the  families  into  \vhich  linguistic  science  has  com- 
bined the  languages  thus  far  brought  under  her  notice.  Wa 
had  time,  however,  to  examine  but  two  of  these  families, 
comprehending  the  tongues  of  the  two  great  white  races 
which  have  taken  or  are  taking,  after  our  own,  the  most 
conspicuous  parts  in  the  history  of  mankind :  they  were,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  Semitic,  a  little  group  of  closely  related 
dialects  in  the  south-western  corner  of  Asia,  counting  as  itf, 
principal  members  the  Hebrew,  Arabic,  and  Syriac ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  Scythian,  an  immense  aggregation  of 
greatly  varying  forms  of  speech,  occupying  with  its  five 
principal  branches — the  Ugrian,  Samoyedic,  Turkish,  ]\lon- 
golian,  and  Tungusic — a  very  large,  but,  in  part,  a  not  very 
valuable,  portion  of  the  combined  continent  of  Asia  and 
Europe.  We  have  now  to  complete  our  Avork  by  passing  in 
cursory  review  the  remaining  families.  The  task  may  be  j 
found,  as  I  cannot  help  fearing,  a  somewhat  tedious  one —  * 
consisting,  as  it  must  do,  to  no  small  extent,  in  going  over  a 


IX.]  CLASSIFICATIO:^    UNCERTAIN.  323 

catalogue  of  unknown  or  unfamiliar  names,  belonging  to 
races  and  tongues  that  stand  far  off  from  our  interests ;  but, 
if  its  result  shall  be  to  give  us  a  comprehensive  view  of  the 
grand  outlines,  geographical  and  structural,  of  human  speech, 
our  hour  will  not  have  been  spent  unprofitably. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  from  the  outset  that  the  best 
classification  of  human  languages  now  attainable  is  neither 
exhaustive,  nor  equally  certain  and  reliable  in  all  its  parts. 
While  nearly  the  whole  field  has  been  explored,  it  has  not 
been  explored  everywhere  with  equal  minuteness  and  care, 
nor  by  equally  trustworthy  investigators.  In  language,  as  in 
geography,  there  are  few  extensive  regions  which  need  any 
longer  be  marked  "  unknown ; "  yet  there  are  many  of 
which  only  the  most  general  features  have  been  determined : 
and  that,  perhaps,  in  part  by  inference,  in  part  upon  inform- 
ation which  may  turn  out  incorrect.  It  may  be  said  in 
general  that,  where  ti'avellers'  reports,  or  mere  vocabularies, 
have  alone  been  accessible  as  the  ground  of  classification,  the 
results  reached  are  of  superficial  character  and  pro^dsional 
value.  No  family  of  languages  can  have  either  its  internal 
or  its  external  relations  well  established,  until  its  material 
has  been  submitted  to  analysis,  the  genesis  and  mode  of  con- 
struction of  its  forms  traced  out,  and  its  laws  of  phonetic 
change  deduced  from  an  examination  and  comparison  of  all 
the  accessible  phenomena — until,  in  short,  its  vital  processes 
are  comprehended,  in  their  past  history  and  their  present 
workings.  To  accomplish  this  for  all  existing  and  recorded 
human  speech  will  be  a  slow  and  laborious  task  ;  and,  for  a 
long  time  to  come,  we  must  expect  that  the  limits  of  families 
will  be  more  or  less  altered,  that  languages  now  separated  will 
come  to  be  classed  together,  and  even  that  some  of  those  now 
connected  will  be  sundered.  It  is  not  alone  ti'ue  that  pene- 
trating study  often  brings  to  light  resemblances  between  two 
languages  which  escape  a  superficial  examination  ;  it  also 
sometimes  shows  the  illusiveness  of  others  which  at  first  sight 
appeared  to  be  valid  evidences  of  relationship.  In  a  pre- 
liminary comparison,  chance  coincidences  are  liable  to  be 
overvalued.  Moreover,  the  first  tentative  groupings  are 
wont  to  be  made  by  the  more  sanguine  and  enterprising  class 

21  • 


824  THE    SO-CALLED  [lBCT. 

of  pliiJologists.  The  "  personal  equation,"  as  the  astro- 
nomers call  it,  the  allowance  for  difference  of  temperament, 
endowment,  and  skill,  has  to  be  applied,  certainly  not  less 
rigorously,  in  estimating  the  observations  and  deductions  of 
linguistic  scholars  than  those  of  the  labourers  in  other 
sciences.  There  is,  on  the  one  hand,  the  class  of  facile  and 
anticipative  investigators,  whose  minds  are  most  impressed 
by  apparent  resemblances ;  who  delight  in  construction,  in 
establishing  connections,  in  grouping  together  extensive 
classes,  in  forming  grand  and  striking  hypotheses ;  who  are 
never  willing  to  say  "  I  do  not  know  :  "  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  is  the  class  of  less  ardent  and  more  phlegmatic 
students,  who  look  beneath  superficial  resemblances  to  pro- 
founder  differences ;  who  call  always  for  more  proof;  who 
are  ever  ready  to  confess  ignorance,  and  to  hold  their  judg- 
ment in  suspense ;  who  refuse  their  assent  to  engaging 
theories,  allowing  it  to  be  wrung  from  them  only  by  cogent 
and  convincing  evidence.  Each  class  has  its  advantages : 
the  one  furnishes  the  better  explorers,  the  other  the  sounder 
critics  ;  the  one  is  the  more  numerous  and  the  more  popular, 
the  other  is  the  safer  and  the  more  strictly  scientific. 

A  notable  exemplification  of  this  temperamental  difference 
of  authorities  is  furnished  us  in  connection  with  one  of  the 
families  of  w  hich  we  have  already  treated.  "We  saw  reason, 
in  the  last  lecture^  to  regard  with  some  doubt  the  genetic 
relationship  claimed  to  exist  between  the  five  great  branches 
of  the  Scythian  family,  as  being  founded  too  little  on  actual 
correspondence  of  linguistic  materials  demonstrably  derived 
from  a  common  source,  and  too  much  on  mere  analogies  of 
linguistic  structure — analogies,  too,  which  were  able  to  con- 
sist with  such  important  differences  as  separate  the  jejune 
dialect  of  the  Manchus  from  the  rich  and  almost  inflective 
lanjjuaLres  of  the  Finns  and  Hungarians.  We  could  not 
pronounce  it  certain  that  the  family  will  be  able  to  maintain 
its  integrity  in  the  light  of  a  more  thorough  and  comprehen- 
sive investigation.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  were  unable 
to  deny  that  it  may  succeed  in  doing  so  ;  and  farther,  it 
is  altogether  possible  that  recognizable  evidences  of  ultimata 


IX.]  "  TURANIAN  "    FAMILY.  3l!o 

connection  with  tlie  family  may  be  found  among  other  Asi- 
atic tongues,  as  yet  unclassed.  Now  some  linguistic  scholars, 
of  no  little  note  and  authority,  have  ventured  to  give  to 
these  possibilities  the  value  of  established  and  unquestion- 
able facts.  They  have  set  up  an  enormous  family,  which  they 
have  styled  the  "  Tiiranian ; "  they  have  allotted  to  it  the 
„  agglutinative  structure  as  its  distinctive  characteristic,  and 
have  made  it  include  nearly  all  known  tongues  save  the  Indo- 
European  and  Semitic,  not  in  Asia  alone,  but  through  the 
oceanic  islands  and  over  the  continent  of  America.  Such 
sweeping  and  wholesale  conglomeration  (for  we  can  hardly 
call  it  classification),  at  the  present  stage  of  progress  of  lin- 
guistic research,  is  wholly  unscientific,  and  of  no  authority 
or  value.  It  represents  only  a  want  of  detailed  knowledge, 
and  a  readiness  to  give  way  to  loose  and  unscrupulous  theoriz- 
ing, on  the  part  of  its  authors,  who  are,  at  the  very  best, 
anticipators  of  the  result  of  scientific  inquiry  —  who  are 
even  already  proved  in  part  its  contradictors :  for  it  is  long 
since  shown  that  many  of  the  alleged  "  Turanian  "  dialects 
are  hardly  less  fundamentally  diflerent  in  their  structure 
from  the  typical  languages  of  the  family  than  is  the  Greek 
or  the  Hebrew.  That  the  inventors  of  the  name  Turanian 
have  associated  it  with  such  a  baseless  classification  is  suffi- 
cient reason  why  it  should  be  strictly  rejected  from  the 
terminology  of  linguistic  science.  Nor  has  it  in  virtue  of 
its  derivation  any  peculiar  claim  to  our  acceptance.  It  is 
borrowed  from  the  legendary  history  of  the  Persian  or 
Iranian  race,  as  represented  to  us  chiefly  by  the  Shah- 
Nameh,  or  '  Book  of  Kings,'  of  Firdusi.  There  Irej  and 
Tur  are  two  of  the  three  brothers  from  whom  spring  the 
races  of  mankind  ;  and  the  tribes  of  Iran  and  Turan,  their 
descendants — namelv,  the  native  Persians  and  their  neioh- 
hours  upon  the  north-east,  probably  of  Turkish  kindred — ■ 
are  represented  as  engaged  in  incessant  warfare  upon  the 
frontier  of  their  respective  territory.  AVhy  we  should  adopt 
a  term  so  local  in  its  original  application,  out  of  a  cycle  of 
legends  with  which  so  few  of  us  are  familiar,  as  the  name  of 
a  race  which  is  claimed  to  extend  from  the  north-westera 


826  DIIAVIDIA.N    LANGUAGES.  [LE/;!. 

border  of  Europe  eastwai-d  across  continent  and  oc«an,  widin- 
ing  as  it  goes,  till  it  .spreads  along  the  whole  western  Atlan- 
tic shore,  cannot  easily  be  made  to  appear. 

There   are  especially  tu^o   groups    of  Asiatic    languages, 
which  have  been  confidently  claimed,  and  with  some  show  of 
reason,  to  belong  to  the  Scythian  family.      Of  these,  the  first 
is  that  occupying  the  southern  portion  of  the  peninsula  of 
India,    and   conmionly    called    the    Tamulian  or    Dravidian 
group  or  family.      We  have  already  seen   (in  the  fifth  and 
sixth  lectures)  that  the  Sanskrit  speaking  tribes,  of  Indo- 
European  race,  forced  their  way   into    India    through    the 
passes  on  its  north-western  frontier,  almost  within  the  his- 
toric period  ;  and  that  they  there  took  exclusive  possession 
only  of  the  northern  portion  of  the  country,  including  esj)e- 
cially  the  vast  plains  and  valleys  of  Hindustan  proper,  with 
a  tract  of  the  sea-coast  stretching  southward  on  either  hand  ; 
dispossessing  so  far,  by  reduction  to  servitude  or  by  expul- 
sion, the  more  aboriginal   inhabitants,  but   leaving   to   their 
former   OAvners  the    hilly  and  elevated  southern  regioii,  the 
Dekhan,  as  well  as  the  yet  less  accessible  heights  and  slopes 
of  the  Himalaya  chain  in  the  north.     Throughout  nearly  the 
whole  Dekhau,  these  older  races  still  form  the  predominant 
population,  and  speak  and  wiite  their  own  languages.     Chief 
among  the  latter  are  the  Tamil,  occupying  the  south-eastern 
extremity  of  the  peninsula,  along  with  most  of  the  island  of 
Ceylon ;  the   Telinga   or   Telugu,  spoken  over  a  yet   more 
extensive  region   lying  north  of  this  ;  the  Canarese,  extcnd- 
ijig  from  the  interior  border  of  the  Tamil  and  Telugu  west- 
ward ahnost  to  the  coast ;  the  Malayalam  or  Malabar,  cover- 
ing a  narrow  strip  of  the  south-western   coast,  from    Cape 
Comorin    northwards ;    and    the   Tulu,   filling   a    still    more 
restricted  area  to  the  north   of  th*^    Malayahim.      All   these 
are    cultivated   tongues,  and   possess   written    literatures,  of 
greater  or  less  extent   and   antiquity  ;  that  of  the  Tamil  is 
the  most  important  and  the  oldest,  parts  of  it   appearing  to 
date    back   as  far  as   to  the  eighth  or  ninth   century  of  our 
era;  notliing  in  Teluofu   is  earlier   than   the   twelfth.      The 
Dravidian  races,  however,  have  derived  their  religion,  their 
p  dity.  and  their  culture,  from  the  superior  race  to  the  north 


IX.]  DEAVIDIA5   LANGUAGES.  32^ 

of  them,  the  Hindus  ;  their  alphabets  are  of  Hindu  descent  j 
their  philosophical  and  scientific  terms  are  borrowed  from 
the  rich  stores  of  the  Sanskrit ;  their  literary  works  are  m 
no  small  part  translations  or  imitations  of  Sanskrit  authors. 
There  are  other  tribes  in  the  peninsula,  of  less  numbers  and 
importance,  wholly  uncultivated,  and  in  part  of  savage  man- 
ners and  mode  of  life.  Some  of  these — as  the  Tudas  of  the 
Nilagiri  hills,  the  Kotas  of  the  same  neighbourhood,  and 
the  wild  Gronds  and  Khonds  of  the  hilly  country  of  Grond- 
wana — are  proved  by  their  language  to  be  akin  with  the 
Dravidian  peoples  ;  *  others — as  the  Kols,  Suras,  and  Santala 
■ — appear  to  be  of  entirely  diverse  race  and  speech ;  relics, 
perhaps,  of  a  yet  more  ancient  Indian  population,  which 
occupied  the  soil  before  the  incursion  of  the  Dravidians,  and 
was  driven  out  by  these,  as  they,  in  their  turn,  by  the  Indo- 
Europeans.  Once  more,  outside  the  borders  of  India 
proper,  in  the  neighbouring  country  of  Beluchistan  (the 
ancient  Gredrosia),  there  is  found  a  people,  the  Brahuis, 
whose  tongue,  though  filled  with  words  of  Hindu  origin,  is 
claimed  to  exhibit  unequivocal  traces  of  a  Dravidian  basis. 

The  Dravidian  languages  are  not  only,  like  the  Scythian, 
of  a  generally  agglutinate  character,  but  their  style  of  ag- 
glutinative structure  is  sufiiciently  accordant  with  that  of 
the  Scythian  tongues  to  permit  of  their  being  ranked  in 
the  same  fiimily,  provided  that  material  evidence  of  the 
relationship,  of  a  sufficiently  distinct  and  unequivocal  char- 
acter, shall  also  be  discovered.  That  such  has  been  already 
found  out  and  set  forth,  is  not  to  be  believed.  The  investi- 
gation has  not  yet  been  undertaken  by  any  scholar  pro- 
foundly versed  in  the  languages  of  both  families,  nor  has 
the  comparative  grammar  of  the  Scythian  dialects  reached 
results  which  can  be  applied  in  conducting  it  and  in  arriving 
at  a  determinate  decision.  That  an  outlying  branch  of  the 
Scythian  race  once  stretched  down  through  western  and 
southern  Iran  into  the  Indian  peninsula  is  at  present  only  an 
attractive  and  plausible  theory,  which  may  yet  be  established 

*  This  is  the  opinion  of  Caldwell,  from  whose  excellent  Comparativa 
Grammai'  of  the  Dravidian  Languages  (London,  1856)  are  mainly  derived 
the  materials  for  tfiis  account  of  the  family. 


528  LANGUAGES   OF   JAPAN  [LECT. 

by  comparison  of  languages,  when  this  comparison  shall  havo 
been  made  with  sufficient  knowledge  and  sufficient  caution. 

The  other  group  referred  to,  as  having  been  sometimes 
claimed  to  exhibit  traces  of  relationship  with  the  Scythian 
family,  is  composed  of  the  languages  which  occupy  the 
peninsulas  and  islands  of  the  extreme  north-eastern  part  of 
the  Asiatic  continent.  Their  character  and  relations  con- 
stitute a  very  obscure  and  difficult  problem  in  linguistic 
ethnology  :  w^hether  they  make  up  a  group  in  any  other  thai? 
a  geographical  sense,  whether  they  are  not  isolated  and  inde- 
pendent tongues,  is  at  present  exceedingly  doubtful.  Their 
linguistic  tie,  if  there  be  one,  is  yet  to  be  established. 

By  far  the  most  conspicuous  and  important  member  of  the 
group  is  the  Japanese.  It  is  wholly  confined  to  the  islands 
forming  the  empire  of  Japan  (and  into  the  northernmos^t  of 
these,  Tesso,  it  is  a  recent  intrusion  ;  the  chief  population 
of  the  island  is  Kurilian),  and  has  no  representatives  or  near 
kindred  upon  the  main-land.  So  lively  attention  has  been 
directed  to  it  of  late,  since  the  re-opening  of  the  empire  to 
Europeans — its  grammars,  dictionaries,  conversation-books, 
and  the  like,  are  multiplying  so  rapidly  in  European  lan- 
guages, and  are  leading  to  so  much  discussion  of  its  linguistic 
character,  that  we  may  hope  to  see  its  position  ere  long 
definitely  established.  It  has  recently  been  repeatedly  and. 
confidently  asserted  to  be  "  of  tlie  Turanian  family  ;  "  but 
this  is  a  phrase  of  so  wholly  dubious  meaning  that  we  cannot 
tell  what  it  is  worth  :  we  shall  be  obliged  to  hold  our  judg- 
ments suspended  until  the  general  relations  of  the  north- 
eastern Asiatic  languages  are  better  settled.  The  language 
is  polysyllabic  and  agglutinative  in  character,  possessing 
some  of  the  features  of  construction  which  also  characterize 
the  Scythian  tongues.  It  is  of  a  simple  phonetic  structure 
(its  syllables  being  almost  always  composed  of  a  single  con- 
sonant with  follow^ing  vowel),  and  fluent  and  easy  of  utter- 
ance. Besides  the  ordinary  spoken  dialect,  there  is  another, 
older  and  more  primitive,  used  as  the  medium  of  certain 
styles  of  composition  :  it  is  called  the  Tamato.  Much,  too, 
of  the  learned  literature  of  the  Japanese  is  written  in 
Chinese.     Their  culture  and  letters  come  from  China,  being 


IX  ]  AND    NORTH-EASTERN    ASIA.  829 

introduced,  it  is  believed,  in  the  third  century  of  our  era  • 
tlie  annals  of  the  empire,  however,  claim  to  go  back  to  a 
much  higlier  antiquity,  even  to  a  time  some  centuries  before 
Chri.<t.  It  was  unfortunate  for  an  inflected  tongue  like  the 
Japanese  to  be  obliged  to  resort  to  China  for  an  alphabet ; 
and  although  a  thoroughly  practical  and  convenient  set  of 
characters,  of  syllabic  value,  easy  to  write  and  to  read,  was 
at  one  time  devised,  being  made  out  of  parts  of  Chinese 
ideographs,  it  is  of  very  restricted  use  ;  and  the  mode  of 
writing  generally  employed  for  literary  texts  is  one  of  the 
most  detestable  in  the  world,  and  the  greatest  existing  ob- 
stacle to  the  acquirement  of  the  language. 

The  dialect  of  the  Loo-Choo  islands  is  nearly  akin  with  the 
Japanese. 

The  peninsula  of  Corea,  lying  in  close  proximity  to 
the  empire  of  Japan,  is  occupied  by  a  language  between 
which  and  the  Japanese,  though  they  are  not  so  dissimilar  m 
structure  that  they  might  not  be  members  of  one  family,  no 
material  evidences  of  relationship  have  been  traced  and 
pointed  out.  The  Corean  also  possesses  some  literary  culti- 
vation, derived  from  China  ;  but  of  both  language  and  liter- 
ature only  the  scantiest  knowledge  has  reached  the  West. 

Along  the  coast  of  Asia  north  of  Corea,  and  also  upon  the 
island  of  S;^gbalien  or  Karafto,  and  through  the  Kurile  chain 
of  islands,  \\  Inch,  stretch  from  Yesso  northward  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  tlie  peninsula  of  Kamchatka,  dwells  another  race, 
that  of  the  Ainos  or  Kurilians.  They  are  hairy  savages, 
who  live  by  hunting  and  fishing,  but  are  distinguished  by 
nobility  of  bearing  and  gentleness  of  manners.  Their  speech 
has  been  sometimes  pronounced  radically  akin  with  the 
Japanese,  but,  apparently,  without  any  sufficient  reason.  A 
few  of  their  popular  songs  have  been  written  dow^n  by 
strangers. 

The  peninsula  of  Kamchatka  itself  belongs  to  yet  another 
wild  race,  the  Kamchadales  ;  and  to  the  north  of  these  lie  the 
nearly  related  peoples  of  the  Koriaks  and  Chukchi,  between 
whom  and  the  American  races  a  connection  has  been  sus- 
pected, but  not  satisfactorily  proved.  The  KamoUos,  who 
occupy  the  ver\  extremity  of    the  continent,  next  to  Ceh* 


830  MONOSYLLABIC    LANGUAGES  [LECT. 

ring's  straits,  arc  pretty  certainly  related  witli  the  E:'kiTr!oa 
of  the  northern  shores  of  the  opposite  continent,  and  tl.ua 
appear  to  be  emigra,nts  out  of  America  into  Asia. 

Between  the  races  we  have  mentioned  and  the  Yakuts  of 
the  Lena,  that  far  outhing  branch  of  the  Turkish  family, 
finally,  live  the  Tukagiris,  another  isolated  and  widely  spread 
people,  not  proved  by  their  language  to  be  akin  with  any  of 
their  neighbours. 

It  was  the  more  necessary  to  glance  at  the  intricate  and 
ill  understood  linguistic  relations  of  this  part  of  the  Asiatic 
continent,  because  our  eyes  naturally  turn  curiously  in  that 
direction,  when  we  inquire  whence  and  how  our  own  Ameri- 
can continent  obtained  the  aboriginal  population  which  we 
have  been  dispossessing.  It  is  evident  that  much  remains 
to  be  dore  upon  the  Asiatic  side  of  the  straits  before  tlio 
linguistic  scholar  can  be  ready  for  a  comparison  which  shall 
show  with  what  race  of  the  Old  World,  if  with  any,  the 
races  of  the  New  are  allied  in  speech. 

The  south-eaistern  portion  of  Asia  is  occupied  by  peoples 
whose  tongues  form  together  a  single  class  or  family.  They 
fill  China  and  Earther  India,  and  some  of  the  neighbouring 
parts  of  the  central  Asiatic  plateau.  The  distinctive  common 
characteristic  of  these  tongues  is  that  they  are  monosyllabic. 
Of  all  human  dialects,  they  represent  most  nearly  what,  as 
",7e  have  already  seen  reason  for  concluding,  was  tlie  primitive 
stage  of  the  agglutinative  and  inflective  forms  of  speech  ; 
they  have  never  begun  that  fusion  of  elements  once  independ- 
ently significant  into  compound  forms  which  has  been  the 
principal  item  in  the  history  of  development  of  all  other 
tongues.  The  Chinese  words,  for  example,  are  still  to  no 
small  extent  roots,  representing  ideas  in  crude  and  undefined 
form,  and  equally  convertible  by  use  into  noun,  verb,  or 
adverb.  Thus,  ta  contains  the  radical  idea  of  '  being  great,' 
and  may,  as  a  substantive,  mean  '  greatness  ; '  as  an  adjective, 
'  great ; '  as  a  verb,  either  '  to  be  great,'  or  '  to  make  great, 
to  magnify  ; '  as  an  adverb,  '  greatly  :  '  the  value  which  it  is 
to  have  as  actually  employed,  in  any  given  case,  is  deter- 
mined partly  by  its  position  in  the  phrase,  and  partly  by  the 
requirements  of  the  sense,  as  gathered  from  the  complex  of 


IX.]  OF    SOUTH-EASTERN    ASIA.  331 

ideas  wliicli  tlie  sentence  presents.  We  have  already  "had 
occasion  to  remark  (in  the  seventh  lecture)  that  somev/hat 
the  same  thing  may  be  said  of  many  English  words  ;  wa 
took  love  as  an  instance  of  one  which  is  now  either  verb  or 
noun,  having  lost  by  phonetic  abbreviation  the  formative 
elements  which  once  distinguished  it  as  the  one  and  as  the 
other.  It  is  a  very  customary  thing  with  us,  too,  to  take 
a  word  which  is  properly  one  part  of  speech,  and  coii" 
verfc  it  into  various  others  without  changing  its  shape  : 
for  example,  hetter  is  primarily  an  adjective,  as  in  "  a  better 
man  than  I ; "  but  we  employ  it  in  connections  which 
make  of  it  an  adverb,  as  in  "  he  loves  party  hetter  than 
country  ;  "  or  a  noun,  as  when  we  speak  of  yielding  to  our 
betters,  or  getting  the  better  of  a  bad  habit ;  or,  finally,  a 
verb,  as  in  "  they  better  their  condition."  Such  analogies, 
however,  do  not  explain  the  form  and  the  variety  of  applica- 
tion of  the  words  composing  the  Chinese  and  its  kindred 
languages.  Of  the  former  possession  of  formative  elements 
these  words  show  no  signs,  either  phonetic  or  significant ; 
they  have  never  been  made  distinct  parts  of  speech  in  the 
sense  in  which  ours  have  been  and  are  so.  How  different 
is  the  state  of  monosyllabism  which  precedes  inflection  from 
that  which  follows  it  in  consequence  of  the  wearing  off  of 
inflective  elements,  may  be  in  some  measure  seen  by  com- 
paring a  Chinese  sentence  with  its  English  equivalent.  The 
Chinese  runs,  as  nearly  as  we  can  represent  it,  th  us  :  "  King 
speak :  Sage !  not  far  thousand  mile  and  come ;  also  will 
have  use  gain  me  realm,  hey  ?  "  which  means,  *  the  king 
spoke :  O  sage  !  since  thou  dost  not  count  a  thousand  miles 
far  to  come  (that  is,  hast  taken  the  pains  to  come  hither 
from  a  great  distance),  wilt  thou  not,  too,  have  brought  some 
thing  for  the  weal  of  my  realm  ?  '  * 

While  all  the  languages  of  the  region  we  have  described 
thus  agree  in  type,  in  morphological  character,  they  show  a 
great  and  astonishing  diversity  of  material ;  only  scanty  cor- 
respondences of  form  and  meaning  are  found  in  their  vocabu- 
laries ;  and    hence,  the  nature  and   degree   of  their  mutual 

*  This  example  is    taken  from  Sehleiclier's    Languages   of    Europe  ia 
Systematic  Eeview  (Bonn,  1850),  p.  51. 


332  CHIN'ESE    LANGUAGE    AND  [L?0T. 

relationship  are  still  obscure.  But  the  structural  accordance 
is  here,  evidently,  a  pretty  sure  sign  of  common  descent. 
If  monosyllabic  tongues  were  of  IVcqiient  occurrence  among 
human  races,  if,  for  instance,  we  met  w ith  one  group  of  them 
in  China,  another  in  Africa,  and  another  in  America,  wb 
should  have  no  right  to  infer  that  they  were  all  genetically 
related  ;  for  it  is,  beyond  all  question,  hypothetically  possible 
that  different  divisions  of  mankind  should  be  characterized 
by  a  kindred  inaptitude  for  linguistic  development.  "When, 
however,  we  find  the  known  languages  of  this  type  clustered 
together  in  one  corner  of  a  single  continent,  we  cannot  well 
resist  the  conviction  that  they  are  all  dialects  of  one  original 
tongue,  and  that  their  differences,  however  great  these  may 
be,  are  the  result  of  discordant  historic  growth. 

Infinitely  the  most  important  member  of  the  monosyllabic 
group  or  family  is  the  Chinese  :  its  history  is  exceeded  in 
interest  bv  that  of  verv  few  other  known  touLrues.  Its 
earliest  literary  records  (some  of  the  odes  of  the  Shi-King, 
'Book  of  vS'tngs  ')  claim  to  go  back  to  nearly  two  thousand 
years  before  Christ,  and  the  annals  and  traditions  of  the 
race  reach  some  centuries  farther,  so  that  Chinese  antiquity 
almost  exceeds  in  hoariness  both  Semitic  and  Indo-European. 
China,  indeed,  in  the  primitiveness  and  persistency  of  ita 
language,  its  arts,  and  its  polity,  is  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able and  exceptional  phenomena  which  the  story  of  our  race 
presents.  It  has  maintained  substantially  the  same  speech 
and  the  same  institutions,  by  uninterrupted  transmissiou 
from  generation  to  generation  upon  the  same  soil,  all  the 
way  down  to  our  own  times  from  a  period  in  the  past  at 
which  every  Indo-European  people  of  which  we  know  aught 
was  but  a  roving  tribe  of  barbarians.  Elsewhere,  change  has 
been  the  dominating  princii)le  ;  in  China,  permanency.  Nor 
has  this  j)ermanency  been  quietism  and  stagnation,  China  has 
had,  down  even  to  modern  times,  no  insignificant  share  of 
activity  and  progress,  though  always  within  certain  limits, 
and  never  of  a  radical  and  revolutionary  character.  She  has 
been  one  of  the  very  few  great  centres  of  culture  and  en- 
lightenment which  the  world  has  known;  and  her  culture 
has  been  not  less  original  in  its  beginnings,  and  almost  more 


IX  ]  CHINESE    LITERATURE.  333 

independent  of  foreign  aid  in  its  development,  tlian  any  otlier. 
Slie  lias  been  tlie  mother  of  arts,  sciences,  and  letters,  to  ttie 
races  on  every  side  of  her ;  and  the  world  at  large  she  has 
aftected  not  a  little,  mainly  through  the  material  products  of 
her  ingenuity  and  industry.  Eepeatedly  subjected  to  foreign 
domination,  she  has  always  vanquished  her  conquerors,  com- 
pelling them  implicitly  to  adopt  her  civilization,  and  respect 
and  maintain  her  institutions.  That  she  now  at  last  seems 
to  have  become  in  a  measure  superannuated  and  effete,  and  to 
be  nearing  her  downfall,  under  the  combined  pressure  of 
overcrowded  population,  a  detested  foreign  yoke  and  internal 
rebellion  against  it,  and  the  disorganizing  interference  of 
Western  powers,  may  be  true  ;  but  it  does  not  become  us  to 
regard  otherwise  than  with  compassion  the  final  decay  of 
a  culture  which,  taking  into  account  the  length  of  its  dura- 
tion and  tlie  number  of  individuals  affected  by  it,  has  perhaps 
spread  as  much  light  and  made  as  much  happiness  as  any 
other  that  ever  existed. 

The  representative  man  of  China  is  Confucius,  who  lived 
in  the  sixth  century  before  Christ.  He  is  no  religious 
teacher,  but  an  ethical  and  political  philosopher.  In  him 
the  wisdom  of  the  olden  time,  the  national  apprehension  of 
the  meaning  and  duties  of  life,  found  its  highest  expression, 
which  has  been  accepted  as  authoritative  by  all  succeeding 
ages.  He  determined  how  much  of  tlie  ancient  literature 
should  be  saved  from  oblivion  :  his  excerpts  from  it,  histori- 
cal and  poetical,  together  with  his  own  writings,  and  the 
works  of  his  pupils,  in  which  are  handed  down  his  own  in- 
structions in  public  and  private  virtue,  form  nearly  the  whole 
of  the  Five  King  and  the  Four  Books,  the  national  classics, 
the  earliest  and  most  revered  portion  of  the  national  litera- 
ture. Their  continuation  and  elaboration  have  engaged  no 
insignificant  part  of  the  literary  activity  of  following  genera- 
tions. But,  aside  from  this,  almost  every  department  of 
mental  productiveness  is  represented  in  China  by  hosts  of 
works,  ancient  and  modern  :  in  history,  in  biography,  in  geo- 
graphy and  ethnology,  in  jurisprudence,  in  the  grammar  a'd 
lexicography  especially  of  their  own  tongue,  in  natural  his- 
tory and  science,  in  art  and  industry,  in  the  various  branches 


334  CHARACTER   OF    THE  [LECT. 

of  belles-lettres,  as  poetry,  romance,  the  drama,  the  Chinese 
have  produced  in  abundance  what,  tried  even  by  our  own 
standard,  is  worthy  of  high  respect  and  admiration.  Ko 
race,  certainly,  outside  the  Indo-European  and  Semitic 
families,  nor  many  races  even  of  those  families,  can  show  a 
literature  of  equal  value  with  the  Chinese. 

Not  very  much  requires  to  be  said  in  explanation  of  the 
structure  and  history  of  a  language  so  simple — a  language 
which  might  be  said  to  have  no  grammatical  structure,  which 
possesses  neither  inflections  nor  parts  of  speech,  and  which 
has  changed  less  in  four  thousand  years  than  most  others  in 
four  hundred,  or  than  many  another  in  a  single  century. 
^  So  restricted, 'in  the  first  place,  is  its  phonetical  system,  that 
its  whole  vocabulary,  in  the  general  cultivated  dialect  (which 
has  lost  the  power  of  uttering  final  mutes,  still  preserved  and 
distinctly  sounded  in  some  of  the  popular  patois),  is  com- 
posed of  only  about  four  hundred  and  fifty  difterent  vocables, 
combinations  of  sounds  :  these,  however,  are  converted  into 
not  far  from  three  times  that  number  of  distinct  words  by 
means  of  the  tones  of  utterance,  which  in  Chinese,  as  in 
some  other  languages  of  similarly  scanty  resources,  are 
pressed  into  the  service  of  the  vocabulary,  instead  of  being 
left,  as  with  us,  to  the  department  of  rhetoric  and  elocution. 
As  a  necessary  consequence,  the  several  words  have  a  much 
greater  range  of  signification  than  in  more  richly  endowed 
tongues ;  each  seems  to  unite  in  itself  the  offices  of  many 
distinct  words,  the  tie  of  connection  between  its  significa- 
tions being  no  longer  traceable.  External  development,  the 
formation  of  derivative  words  to  lear  the  variety  of  derived 
meanings  into  which  every  root  tends  to  branch  out,  is  here 
almost  or  quite  unknown  :  internal,  significant  development 
has  been  obliged  to  do  the  whole  work  of  linguistic  growth. 
Of  course,  then,  not  only  the  grammatical  form,  but  also  the 
radical  significance,  is  often  left  to  be  pointed  out  by  the  con- 
nection. And  here,  again,  the  Chinese  finds  its  nearest 
parallel,  among  inflected  tongues,  in  the  numerous  homonyms 
(words  identical  in  sound  but  diflferent  in  meaning)  of  our 
own  English  :  for  example,  in  our  three  difterent  meeV* 
(meet,   mete,  and  meat),  and  bear's  (bear,  verb,  bear,  noun, 


IX.]  CHINESE    LANGUAGE.  335 

and  bare,  adjective),  2ii\di  found' s  {found  from  find,  found, 
•  establish,'  and  found,  '  cast '),  and  other  the  like.  In  the 
written  language,  much  of  this  ambiguity  is  avoided,  since 
each  Chinese  character  represents  a  word  with  regard,  not  to 
its  phonetic  form  alone,  but  to  its  meaning  also  *  —  Avhence 
comes  the  strange  anomaly  that  a  language  composed  of  but 
a  thousand  or  two  of  words  is  written  with  an  alphabet  con- 
taining tens  of  thousands  of  different  signs.  The  literary  style 
is  thus  enabled  to  unite  with  sufficient  intelligibility  a  won- 
derful degree  of  conciseness,  to  combine  brevity  and  precision 
to  a  degree  elsewhere  unapproached.  The  spoken  language  is 
much  more  wordy,  using,  to  secure  the  mutual  understanding 
of  speaker  and  hearer,  various  devices,  which  here  and  there 
approach  very  near  to  agglutination,  although  they  always 
stop  short  of  it.  To  no  small  extent,  the  Chinese  is  in  prac- 
tical use  a  language  of  groups  of  monosyllabic  roots  rather 
than  of  isolated  monosyllables:  a  host  of  conceptions  which 
we  signify  by  single  words,  it  denotes  by  a  collocation  of 
several  words  :  thus,  '  virtue  '  is  represented  by  four  cardinal 
virtues,  faith-piety-temperance-justice  ;  '  parent '  by  father- 
mother  ;  exceedingly  often,  two  nearly  synonymous  words  are 
put  together  to  express  their  common  meaning,  like  nmy-path, 
for  'way'  (such  a  collocation  being  m^ainly  a  device  for  suggest- 
ing to  the  mind  the  one  signification  in  which  two  words,  eacli 
of  various  meaning,  agree  with  one  another)  ;  \iir\'  often,  again, 
a  "  classifier,"  or  word  denoting  the  class  in  which  a  voca- 
ble is  used,  is  appended  to  it,  as  when  we  say  maple-tree^ 
whaleflsh,  for  maple  aud  lohale  (many  of  these  classifiers  are 
of  very  peculiar  sense  and  application)  ;  certain  words, 
further,  are  virtual  signs  of  parts  of  speech,  as  those  meaning 
'  get,'  '  come,'  '  go,'  added  to  verbs  ;  '  place,'  making  nouns 
from  verbs  and  adjectives ;  a  relative  particle,  pointing  out 
the  attributive  relation ;  objective  particles,  indicating 
an  instrumental,  locative,  dative  case  ;  pluralizing  words, 
meaning  originally  '  number,  crowd,  heap  ;  '  a  diminutive 
sign,  the  word  for  '  child ;  '  and  so  on.  There  has  been 
here    not    a    little   of  that    attenuation    and    integration   of 

*  See  the  twelfth  lecture,  where  this  peculiarity  of  the  Chinese  mode  of 
writing  will  be  more  fully  explained. 


336  LANGUAGES    OF   CHINA  [lECT. 

meaning  by  vrlrch  in  our  own  lanj^age  mt  have  formed 
BO  many  relational  words  and  plirnscs ;  but  there  is  no 
fusion,  no  close  combination,  even,  of  elements  ;  these  are 
simply  placed  side  by  side,  without  losing  their  separate  in- 
dividuality. There  is  no  reason  assignable  why  a  truly  ag- 
glutinative stage  might  not  possibly  grow  out  of  a  condition 
of  things  lil\e  this  ;  and  it  is  claim.ed  by  som.e  that,  in  certain 
of  the  popular  dialects  (which  differ  notably  from  the  Tcwan- 
hwa,  the  common  dialect  of  the  lettered  classes),  agglutina- 
tion, to  a  limited  extent,  is  actually  reached. 

AVhile  thus  the  Chinese  is,  in  certain  respects  of  funda- 
mental importance,  the  most  rudimentary  and  scanty  of  all 
known  languages,  the  one  least  fitted  to  become  a  satisfactory 
means  of  expression  of  human  thought,  it  is  not  without  its 
compensations.  The  power  which  the  human  mind  has  over 
its  instruments,  and  independent  of  their  imperfections,  is 
strikingly  illustrated  by  the  history  of  this  form  of  speech, 
which  has  successfully  answered  all  the  purposes  of  a  culti- 
vated, reflecting,  studious,  and  ingenious  people  throughout  a 
career  of  unequalled  duration  ;  which  has  been  put  to  far 
hiirhcr  and  more  varied  uses  than  most  of  the  multitude  of 
highly  organized  dialects  spoken  among  men — dialects  rich 
in  flexibility,  adaptiveness,  and  power  of  expansion,  but  poor 
in  the  mental  poverty  and  weakness  of  those  who  should 
wield  them.  In  the  domain  of  language,  as  in  some  depart- 
ments of  art  and  industry,  no  race  has  been  comparable  witli 
the  Chinese  for  capacity  to  accomplish  wonderful  things  with 
rude  and  uncouth  instruments. 

The  principal  nations  of  Farther  India  are  the  Annamese 
or  Cochin-Chinese,  the  Siamese,  and  the  Burmese ;  tribes  of 
inferior  numbers,  civilization,  and  importance  are  the  Kwanto, 
Cambodians,  Peguans,  Karens,  and  others.  Annamese  cul- 
ture is  of  Chinese  origin;  the  races  of  Siam  and  Burmah 
emerge  from  ol  scuriiy  as  they  receive  knowledge,  letters, 
and  religion  (Buddhism)  together  from  India.  Their  Ian 
guages  are, like  the  Chinese,  monosyllabic  and  isolating;  but 
they  are  as  much  inferior  to  that  tongue  in  distinctness  of 
constructioi;  and  precision  of  expression  as  the  people  that 
Bpcak   them   have  shown  themselves  to  be  inferior  to  the 


JX.]  AND   FARTHER    INDIA.  337 

mhabitants  of  China  in  mental  activity  and  reach.  Of  indi- 
cative words,  substitutes  for  the  formative  elements  of  more 
highly  developed  languages,  they  make  an  extended  use. 
Such  auxiliary  and  limiting  words  are  in  Siamese  always  put 
before,  in  Burmese  always  after,  the  principal  root. 

To  the  same  general  class  of  tongues,  yet  with  sundry 
yariations  of  type,  even  sometimes  appearing  to  overstep  the 
boundary  which  divides  mere  collocation  from  actual  agglu- 
tination of  elements,  are  deemed  to  belong  the  exceedingly 
numerous  and  not  less  discordant  dialects  which  crowd  the 
mountain  valleys  on  both  sides  of  the  great  range  of  the 
Himalayas,  and  that  part  of  the  plateau  of  centi^al  Asia  which 
lies  next  north  of  the  range.  The  linguistic  student  is  lost, 
as  yet,  in  the  infinity  of  details  presented  by  these  dialects, 
and  is  unable  to  classify  them  satisfactorily.  Most  of  them 
are  known  only  by  partial  vocabularies,  lists  of  words 
gathered  by  enterprising  collectors,*  no  penetrating  investi- 
gation and  clear  exposition  of  their  structure  and  laws  of 
growth  having  yet  been  made.  It  were  useless  to  detail 
here  the  names  of  the  wild  tribes  to  which  they  belong,  or 
eet  forth  the  groupings  which  have  been  provisionally  estab- 
lished among  them.  The  only  one  which  possesses  any  his- 
torical or  literary  importance  is  the  Tibetan.  Tibet  was  one 
of  the  early  conquests  of  Buddhism,  and  has  long  been  a 
chief  centre  of  that  religion.  It  has  an  immense  Buddhist 
literature,  in  great  part  tTanslated  from  the  Sanskrit,  and 
written  in  a  character  derived  from  that  in  which  the  Sans- 
krit is  written.  Though  strictly  a  monosyllabic  language, 
the  Tibetan  exhibits  some  very  peculiar  and  problematical 
features — in  its  written  but  now  unpronounced  prefixes,  and 
a  kind  of  inflective  internal  change  appearing  in  many  of  its 
words — which  are  a  subject  of  much  controversy  among 
comparative  philologists. 

With  the  next  great  family,  the  Malay-Polynesian,  or 
Oceanic,  we  shall  not  need  to  delay  long.  Those  Mho  speak 
its  dialects  fill  nearly  all  the  islands  from  the  coasts  of  Asia 
southward  and  eastward,  from  Madagascar  to  the  Sandwich 

*  Among  these,  Rev.  N.  Brown  and  Mr.  B.  H.  Hodgson  have  especially 
distiuguislied  themselves. 


338  POLYNESIAN    AND  [LBOT, 

group  and  Easter  Island,*  from  New  Zealand  to  Eormosa. 
A  few  of  those  which  are  found  nearest  to  Farther  India 
possess  alphabets  and  scanty  literatures,  coming  chiefly  from 
the  introduction  among  them  of  religion  and  culture  from 
India ;  but  the  Malay  has  adopted  the  Arabic  alphabet. 
Considering  how  widely  they  are  scattered,  there  prevails 
among  these  languages  a  notable  degree  of  correspondence 
of  material  as  well  as  of  structure,  and  their  coherence  as  a 
family  is  unquestionable  ;  but  the  work  of  marking  out 
subordinate  groups,  and  determining  degrees  of  relationship, 
is  as  yet  but  partially  accomplished  for  them.  Missionaries, 
American  and  English,  have  played  and  are  playing  an  im- 
portant part  in  laying  them  open  to  knowledge,  as  well  as 
in  introducing  knowledge  among  those  who  speak  them. 

The  Polynesian  languages,  especially  those  of  the  eastern 
division,  are  of  simpler  phonetic  form  than  any  others  spoken 
by  human  races :  their  alphabets  contain  not  more  than  ten 
consonants,  often  as  few  as  seven,  and  their  allowed  combin- 
ations of  sounds  are  restricted  to  open  syllables,  composed 
of  a  vowel  alone,  or  of  a  vowel  preceded  by  a  single  conso- 
nant ;  of  combined  consonants,  or  final  consonants,  they 
know  nothing.  They  are  polysyllabic,  but  hardly  less  desti- 
tute of  forms  than  the  monosyllabic  tongues.  Their  roots, 
if  we  may  call  them  so,  or  the  most  primitive  elements  which 
our  imperfect  historical  analysis  enables  us  to  trace,  are  more 
often  dissyllabic,  but  of  indeterminate  value  as  parts  of 
speech :  they  may  be  employed,  without  change,  as  verb, 
substantive,  adjective,  or  even  preposition.  All  inflection  is 
wanting  :  gender,  case,  number,  tense,  mode,  person,  have  no 
formal  distinctions ;  pronouns,  indicative  particles,  prepo- 
sitions, and  the  like,  constitute  the  whole  grammar,  making 
parts  of  spet  eh  and  pointing  out  their  relations.  Moreover, 
anything  which  can  properly  be  styled  a  verb  is  possessed  by 
none  of  these  languages  ;  their  so-called  verbs  are  really  only 
nouns  taken  predicatively.  Thus,  to  express  'he  has  a  white 
jacket  on,'  tlie  Dayak  says  literally  "he with-jacket with-white,'' 
or  "  he  jackcty  whitey."  *  As  a  means  of  development  of 
mignification,  the  repetition  or  reduplication  of  a  root  is  very 
•  Steinthal,  Charakteristik  etc.,  page  166. 


IX.]  MELANESIAN    LANGUAGES,  339 

frequently  resorted  to  ;  prefixes  and  suffixes,  especially  tlie 
former,  are  also  applied  to  the  same  purpose.  Oaly  the  per- 
sonal pronouns  have  a  peculiar  kind  of  variation  by  number, 
produced  by  composition  and  fusion  with  the  numerals :  in 
this  way  are  often  distinguished  not  only  a  singular,  dual,  and 
plural,  but  also  a  tri-al,  denoting  three :  and  the  numbers 
other  than  singular  of  the  first  person  have  a  double  form, 
according  as  the  we  is  meant  to  include  or  to  exclude  the  per- 
son addressed. 

The  races  to  whom  belong  the  dialects  we  have  thus 
characterized  are  of  a  brown  colour.  But  these  do  not 
make  up  the  whole  population  of  the  Pacific  island-world. 
The  groups  of  little  islands  lying  to  the  east  of  Xew  Gruinea 
— the  New  Hebrides,  the  Solomon's  islands.  New  Caledonia, 
and  others — are  inhabited  by  a  black  race,  having  frizzled  or 
woolly  hair,  yet  showing  no  other  signs  of  relationship  with 
the  natives  of  Africa.  Men  of  like  physical  characteristics 
are  found  to  occupy  the  greater  part  of  New  Gruinea,  and 
more  or  less  of  the  other  islands  lying  westward,  as  far  as  the 
Andaman  group,  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal.  They  are  known  by 
various  names,  as  Negritos,  Papuans,  Melanesians.  Some  of 
their  languages  have  been  recently  brought  by  missionary 
effort  to  the  knowledge  of  linguistic  scholars,  and  help  to 
prove  the  race  distinct  from  the  Polynesian.  In  point  of 
material,  a  wide  diversity  exists  among  the  dialects  of  the 
different  tribes  ;  they  exhibit  almost  the  extreme  of  linguistic 
discordance ;  each  little  island  has  its  own  idiom,  unintelli- 
gible to  all  its  neighbours,  and  sometimes  the  separate  dis- 
tricts of  the  same  islet  are  unable  to  communicate  together. 
Yet,  so  far  as  they  have  been  examined,  distinct  traces  of  a 
common  origin  have  been  found  ;  and  in  general  plan  of 
structure  they  agree  not  only  among  themselves,  but  also,  in 
a  marked  degree,  with  the  Polynesian  tongues,  so  that  they 
are  perhaps  to  be  regarded  as  ultimately  coinciding  with  the 
latter  in  origin.* 

The  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  Australia  and  of  parts  of  the 
neighbouring  islands  are  by  some   set   down   as  a  distinct 

*  See  Yon  der  Gabelentz,  Die  Melanesischen  Sprac'  en,  etc.,  in  vol  viii 
(1861)  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Saxon  Society  of  Sciences. 

22  * 


840  EGYPTIAN    LANGUAGES.  [lEC!T 

race,  tlie  Alforas  :  our  knowledge  of  their  speecli  is  not 
Bufficient  for  us  to  determine  with  confidence  their  linguistic 
position. 

The  rank  in  the  scale  of  languages  generally  assigned 
to  the  ancient  Egyptian  (with  its  successor,  the  modern 
Coptic),  its  oftea  alleged  coiiiiection  with  the  Semitic,  and  the 
antiquity  and  importance  of  the  culture  to  which  it  served  as 
instrument,  would  have  justified  us  in  treating  it  next  after 
the  Indo-European  and  Semitic  ;  but  it  seemed  more  conve- 
nient to  traverse  the  whole  joint  continent  of  Europe  and 
Asia,  before  crossing  into  Africa.  The  chronology  of 
Egyptian  history  is  still  a  subject  of  not  a  little  controversy  ; 
but  it  cannot  be  reasonably  doubted  that  the  very  earliest 
written  monuments  of  human  thought  are  found  in  the  valley 
of  the  Nile,  as  well  as  the  most  ancient  and  most  gigantic 
works  of  human  art.  There  was  wisdom  in  Egypt,  accumu- 
lated and  handed  down  through  a  long  succession  of  genera- 
tions, for  Moses,  the  founder  of  the  Hebrew  state,  to  become 
learned  in ;  and  Herodotus,  the  "  father  of  history,"  as  we 
are  accustomed  to  style  him,  found  Egypt,  when  he  visited 
it,  already  entered  upon  its  period  of  dotage  and  decay.  It 
was  a  strange  country  :  one  narrow  line  of  brilliant  green 
(but  spreading  fan-like  at  its  northern  extremity),  traced  by 
the  periodical  overflow  of  a  single  branchless  and  sourceless 
river  through  the  great  desert  which  sweeps  from  the  Atlantic 
coast  to  the  very  border  of  India  ;  so  populous  and  so  fertile 
as  to  furnish  a  surplusage  of  labour,  for  the  execution  of 
architectural  works  of  a  solidity  and  grandeur  elsewhere 
unknown,  and  which  the  absolute  dryness  of  the  climate  has 
permitted  to  come  doA\ai  to  us  in  unequalled  preservation. 
On  these  monuments,  within  and  without,  the  record-loving 
Egyptians  depicted  and  described  the  events  of  their  national 
and  jxM'soiial  history,  the  course  and  occupations  of  their 
daily  lives,  their  ofi'erings,  prayers,  and  praises,  the  scenes  of 
tiieir  public  worshi})  and  of  the  administration  of  their  state, 
tlicir  cxjH'ditions  and  conqui  sts.  Their  language  has  thus 
stood  for  ages  ])lain]y  written  before  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
inviting  i-cadcrs  ;  l»ut  tlic  key  to  the  characters  in  which  it 
was  inscribed,  the  sacred  hieroglyphics,  had  been  lost  allnoet 


IX.]  HAMITIC    FAMILY.  34? 

since  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era  ;  until,  in  our  OT^n 
century,  it  has  been  recovered  by  the  zeal  and  industry  of  a 
few  devoted  men,  among  whose  names  that  of  Champollion 
stands  foremost.  The  reconstruction  of  the  ancient 
Egyptian  tongue,  though  b^  no  means  complete^  is  sufficiently 
advanced  to  allow  us  to  see  quite  clearly  its  general  cha- 
racter. It  was  but  an  older  form  of  the  modern  Coptic. 
The  Coptic  has  itself  gone  out  of  existence  within  the  past 
three  or  four  centuries,  extinguished  by  the  Arabic  ;  but  we 
possess  a  tolerably  abundant  Christian  Coptic  literature, 
representing  two  or  three  slightly  different  dialects,  written 
in  an  alphabetic  character  chiefly  adapted  from  the  Greek, 
and  dating  back  to  the  early  centuries  of  our  era.  The 
differences  are  comparatively  slight  between  the  old  Egyptian 
of  the  hieroglyphical  monuments  and  the  later  Coptic,  for  the 
exceedingly  simple  structure  of  the  language  has  saved  it  from 
the  active  operation  of  linguistic  change.  A  transitional 
step,  too,  between  the  one  and  the  other  is  set  before  us  in 
the  series  of  records,  mostly  in  papyrus  rolls,  which  are  called 
hieratic  and  demotic,  from  the  characters  in  which  they  are 
written,  modified  fonns  of  the  hieroglyphs,  adapted  to  a  more 
popular  use :  these  records  come  from  the  last  five  or  six 
centuries  preceding  our  era,  and  represent,  doubtless,  the 
popular  speech  of  the  period. 

A  number  of  other  African  dialects  are  claimed  to  exhibit 
affinities  cf  material  and  structure  with  the  language  of 
Egypt.  They  fall  *  into  three  groups  :  the  Ethiopian  or 
Abyssinian,  of  which  the  Galla  is  at  present  the  most  im- 
portant member ;  the  Libyan  or  Berber,  extending  over  a 
wide  region  of  northern  Africa,  from  Egypt  to  the  Atlantic 
ocean  ;  and  the  Hottentot,  embracing  the  dialects  of  the 
degraded  tribes  of  Hottentots  and  Bushmen  at  the  far 
southern  extremity  of  the  continent :  these  last  have  been  but 
recently  recognized  as  showing  signs  of  probable  relationship 
with  the  rest.  The  family,  as  thus  made  up,  is  styled  the 
Hamitic  (by  a  name  correlative  to  Semitic  and  Japhetic)  : 
its  constitution  and  relations,  however,  are  s^till   matters   li 

•  I  follow  liere  the  classification  of  Lepsiiis,  friven  in  the  second  edit'ox    / 
kiii  Standard  Alphabet  (London  and  Berlin,  1863),  at  p.  303. 


342  EGYPTIAN    AND    OTHER  [lEOT. 

no  little  (lilference  of  opinion  among  linguistic  scholars,  and 
can  be  fully  established  only  by  continued  researcb. 

The  Egyptian  was  a  language  of  the  utmost  simplicitv-,  o? 
even  poverty,  of  grammatical  structure.  Its  roots — which, 
in  their  condition  as  made  known  to  us,  are  prevailinglv, 
though  not  uniformly,  monosyllabic — are  also  its  words  ; 
neither  noun  nor  verb,  nor  any  other  part  of  speech,  has  a 
characteristic  form,  or  can  be  traced  back  to  a  simpler  radi- 
cal element,  from  wbicb  it  comes  by  the  addition  of  a  forma- 
tive (dement.  Some  roots,  as  in  Chinese,  are  either  verb, 
substantive,  or  adjective — thus,  ankh,  '  live,  life,  alive,'  sckhi, 
'  write,  a  writing,  writer  ' — others  are  only  verbs  or  onlv 
nouns.  A  word  used  as  substantive  is  generally  marked  bv 
a  prefixed  article,  which  is  often  closely  combined  with  it, 
but  yet  is  not  a  part  of  it ;  it  has  no  declension,  the  objective 
uses  being  indicated  by  prepositions.  The  personal  inflec- 
tion of  the  verb  is  made  by  means  of  suffixed  pronominal 
endings,  also  loosely  attached,  and  capable  of  being  omitted 
in  the  third  person  when  a  noun  is  expressed  as  subject  of 
the  verb.  Mode  and  tense  are^  to  a  certain  limited  extent, 
signified  by  prefixed  auxilia,ry  words.  But  these  pronominal 
endings,  which,  when  added  to  the  verb,  indicate  the  subject 
(sometimes  also  the  object),  liave  likewise  a  possessive  value, 
when  appended  to  nouns:  thus,  ran-i  is  either  '  I  name'  or 
*  my  name  ; '  it  is  literally,  doubtless, '  naming-mine,'  applied  \ 
in  a  substantive  or  a  verbal  sense  according  to  the  require-  ' 
mcnts  of  the  particular  case  :  that  is  to  say,  there  is  no 
essential  distinction  formally  made  between  a  noun  and  a 
verb.  In  the  singular  number  of  both  articles  and  pronominal 
suffixes,  as  also  in  the  pronouns,  there  is  made  a  separation 
of  gender,  as  masculine  or  feminine.  This  is  a  highly 
important  feature  in  the  structure  of  Hamitic  speech,  and 
the  one  which  gives  it  its  best  claim  to  the  title  of  form-lnu- 
guage.  So  far  as  it  goes,  it  puts  the  tonixucs  of  the  family 
into  one  grand  class  along  with  the  Indo-European  and  the 
Semitic  :  these  three  families  alone  have  made  a  subjective 
classification  of  all  objects  of  knowledge  and  of  thought  r.8 
masculine  and  feminine,  and  given  it  ex4)ression  in  their  speech. 
But,  by  its  general  character,  the  Egyptian  is  far  enougb 


IX.]  AFRICAN    LANGUAGES.  343 

from  being  entitled  to  rank  witli  the  Indo-European  and 
Semitic  languages,  being,  rather,  but  a  single  step  above  the 
Chinese  :  in  many  of  its  constructions  it  is  quite  as  bald  aa 
the  latter,  and  sometimes  even  less  clear  and  free  from 
ambiguity. 

The  Egyptian  pronouns  present  some  striking  analogies 
^vith  the  Semitic,  and  from  this  fact  has  been  drawn  by  many 
linguistic  scholars  the  confident  conclusion  that  the  t\vo 
families  are  ultimately  related,  the  Egyptian  being  a  relic  of 
the  Semitic  as  the  latter  was  before  its  development  into  the 
peculiar  form  which  it  now  wears,  and  which  was  described 
ill  the  last  lecture.  Considering,  however,  the  exceeding 
structural  difference  between  them,  and  the  high  improba- 
bility that  any  genuine  correspondences  of  so  special  a,  cha- 
racter should  have  survived  that  thorough  working-over 
which  could  alone  have  made  Semitic  speech  out  of  anything 
like  Egyptian,  the  conclusion  must  be  pronounced,  at  the 
least,  a  venturesome  one.  Semitic  affinities  have  been  not 
less  confidently,  and  with  perhaps  more  show  of  reason, 
claimed  for  the  Libyan  and  Abyssinian  branches  of  the  so- 
called  Hamitic  family.  Only  continued  investigation,  and 
more  definite  establishment  of  the  criteria  of  genetic  relation- 
ship, can  determine  what  part  of  these  alleged  correspond- 
ences are  real,  and  of  force  to  show  community  of  descent, 
and  what  part  are  fancied,  or  accidental,  or  the  result  of 
borrowing  out  of  one  language  into  another. 

To  enter  in  any  detail  into  the  labyrinths  of  African  lan- 
guage and  ethnography  is  not  essential  to  our  present 
purpose,  and  will  not  be  here  undertaken.  As  a  consequence 
of  the  extraordinary  activity  of  missionary  enterprise  and  of 
geographical  exploration  and  discovery  in  Africa  within  a  few 
years  past,  much  curiosity  and  study  has  been  directed 
towards  African  dialects  ;  a  great  mass  of  material  has  been 
collected,  and  its  examination  has  been  carried  far  enough  to 
give  us  at  least  a  general  idea  of  the  distribution  of  races  in 
that  quarter  of  the  world.  A  vast  deal,  however,  still  remains 
to  be  done,  before  the  almost  innumerable  and  rapidly  chang- 
ing dialects  of  all  these  wild  tribes  shall  be  brought  to  our 
knowledge,  combined  into  classes   and  groups,  and  under- 


344  LANGUAGES    OF    THE  [lECTI. 

stood  in  their  resemblances  and  differences  of  material  and 
structure. 

Apart  from  the  dialects  already  mentioned,  as  belonging 
to  the  Hamitic  or  the  Semitic  faniily,  the  best  established 
and  most  widely  extended  group  of  African  languages  is  that 
one  which  fills  nearly  the  whole  southern  part  of  the  conti- 
nent, from  a  few  degrees  north  of  the  equator  to  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope.  It  is  variously  called  the  Bantu,  the  Chuana, 
or  the  Ziiigian  family  ;  or,  by  a  simple  geographical  title,  the 
South-xA.frican.  The  material  as  w^ell  as  structural  coinci- 
dences between  its  numerous  members  are  fully  sufficient  to 
prove  its  unity.  Its  subdivisions,  and  the  separate  dialects 
composing  them,  need  not  here  be  rehearsed.*  Xone  of 
these  dialects  has  any  other  culture  than  that  which  it  has 
received  under  missionary  auspices  in  the  most  recent  period. 
Tliey  are  all  of  an  agglutinative  character,  forming  words  of 
many  syllables,  and,  in  a  certain  way,  they  are  rich  enough 
in  forms,  and  in  the  capacity  of  indicating  different  shades  of 
meaning  and  relation.  Their  most  marked  peculiarity  is 
their  extensive  use  of  pronominal  prefixes  to  the  nouns : 
these  are  numerous — in  some  languages,  as  many  as  sixteen 
— and  distinjruish  the  number  and  fjeneric  class  of  the  nouns 
to  which  they  are  attached.  Thus,  in  Zulu,  we  have  um-fana^ 
'  boy,'  aba-fana,  '  boys  ; '  in-komo,  '  cow,'  iziti-komo,  '  cows  ; ' 
ili-zwi,  '  word,'  ama-zwi,  '  words,'  and  so  on.f  But  farther, 
these  same  prefixes,  or  characteristic  parts  of  them,  enter  into 
the  formation  of  the  adjectives,  the  possessive  and  relative 
pronouns,  and  the  personal  pronouns  employed  as  subject  or 
object  of  the  verbs,  agreeing  with  or  referi-ing  to  the  nouns 
to  which  they  respectively  belong  :  for  example,  aha-fana 
h-ami  aha-Jculu,  ha  tanda,  'my  large  boys,  they  love;'  but 
izin-komo  z-ami  izin-Jculu,  zi  tanda,  '  my  large  cows,  they 
love.'  Thus  is  produced  a  kind  of  alliterative  congruence, 
like  the  rhyming  one  often  seefi  in  Latin,  as  vir-o  o_ptim-o 
maxim-o,  fcmin-oe  optim-ce  maxim-ce.      Of  inflection  by  casea 

*  See  Lcpsins's  General  Table  of  Languages,  already  roforrcd  to ;  and  Dr. 
BU'ck's  Catalogue  of  Sir  Grorgo  Groy's  Library,  at  Capi-tcnvn,  I808. 

t  Our  examples  are  taken  from  liev.  L  Grout's  "Zilu-Laud"  (Pliila 
delphia,  lt>64),  chap.  xiv. 


IX.  J  SOUTH-AFRICAX    FAMILY.  3i3 

the  So utb- African  noun  has  hardly  any  ;  the  case-relation* 
arc  indicated  by  prefixed  prepositions.  Nor  is  there  a  per- 
sonal inflection  of  the  verbs,  except  by  means  of  prefixed 
pronouns.  Mode  and  tense  are  signified  chiefly  by  auxiliary 
words,  also  standing  before  the  main  root ;  but  in  part  by 
derivative  forms  of  the  root,  made  by  sufiixes  :   thus,  tandile, 

*  loved,'  from  tanda,  '  love  ; '   and  like  suffixes  form  derivativo 
conjugations  of  the  root,  in  number  and  in  variety  compar 
able  with  those  which,  as  was  shown  in  the  last  lecture,  come 
from  the  Turkish  verb  :   examples  are  honisa,  '  show,'    honela, 

*  see  for,'  bonana,  '  see  each  other/  ho?nsana,  '  show  each 
other,'  bo?iwa,  'be  seen,'  etc.,  etc.,  from  bo?ia,  'see.'  Excepi 
in  the  interjectional  forms,  the  vocative  and  second  person 
imperative,  every  verb  and  noun  in  these  languages  appears 
in  connected  speech  clothed  with  a  pronominal  prefix ;  so 
that  a  prefix  seems  as  essential  a  part  of  one  of  their  word? 
as  does  a  suffix  of  an  Indo-European  word,  in  the  older 
dialects  of  the  family. 

A  very  peculiar  feature  of  the  phonetic  structure  of  some 
of  the  best-known  South-African  languages,  especially  of  the 
Kafir  branch  (including  the  Zulu),  is  the  use,  as  consonants, 
of  the  sounds  called  clicks,  made  by  separating  the  tongue 
sharply  from  the  roof  of  the  mouth,  with  accompanying  suc- 
tion— sounds  which  we  employ  only  in  talking  to  horses  or 
in  amusing  babies.  As  many  as  four  of  these  clicks  form  in 
some  dialects  a  regular  part  of  the  consonantal  system,  each 
being  subject  to  variation  by  utterance  simultaneously  with 
other  sounds,  guttural  or  nasal.  It  is  not  a  little  remark- 
able that  the  clicks  also  abound  in  the  tongues  of  that  iso- 
lated branch  of  the  Hamitic  family,  the  Hottentot  and 
Bushman,  which  is  shut  in  among  the  South -African  dialects  : 
indeed,  they  are  conjectured  to  be  of  Hottentot  origin,  and 
caught  by  the  other  tribes  by  imitation,  since  they  are  found 
only  in  those  members  of  the  diflerent  South- African 
branches  which  are  neighbours  of  the  Hottentots. 

Epon  the  western  coast  of  the  continent,  the  languages  of 
the  family  of  which  we  are  treating  extend  as  far  as  into  the 
territory  of  Sierra  Eeone  ;  but  they  are  much  intermingled 
at  the  north  with  other  tongues  of  a  diflerent  kindred.      A 


34G  AFRICAN    LANGUAGES.  [LECT. 

broad  band  across  the  continent  at  its  widest  part,  from  Cape 
Verde  on  the  north  nearly  to  the  equator  on  the  south,  and 
eastward  to  the  upper  waters  of  the  Nile,  is  filled  with  dia- 
lects not  reckoned  a?  South- African,  although  possessing  a 
structure  in  many  respects  accordant  with  that  which  we 
have  just  described.  Conspicuous  among  them  are  the 
Pulah  or  Fellatah,  the  Mandingo,  and  the  tongues  of  Bornu 
and  Darfur.  How  far  they  admit  of  being  grouped  together 
as  a  single  family,  and  what  may  be  the  value  of  their  general 
structural  correspondence  with  the  other  great  African 
family,  must  be  left  for  future  researches  to  determine. 
One  of  them,  the  Vei,  has  an  alphabet  of  its  own,  of  native 
invention. 

Throughout  nearly  the  whole  of  northern  and  central 
Africa,  Arabic  influence  has  for  some  time  past  been  rapidly 
epreadiuL;,  carrying  with  it  a  certain  degree  of  civilization, 
the  Mohammedan  religion,  the  Koran,  and  some  knowledge 
and  use  of  the  Arabic  language.  It  is  only  in  this  quarter 
of  the  world  that  Semitic  faith  and  speech  still  continue 
aggressive. 

There  remains  for  consideration,  of  the  recognized  great 
families  of  human  language,  only  that  one  which  occupies  the 
continent  of  North  and  South  America.  Of  this,  also,  we 
must  renounce  all  attempt  at  detailed  treatment;  it  is  a  theme 
too  vast  and  complicated  to  be  dealt  with  otherwise  than 
very  summarily  within  our  necessary  limits.  The  conditions 
of  the  linguistic  problem  presented  by  the  American  lan- 
guages are  exceedingly  perplexing,  for  the  same  reason  as 
those  presented  by  the  Polynesian  and  African  dialects,  and 
\n  a  yet  higher  degree.  The  number,  variety,  and  change- 
ableness  of  the  different  tongues  is  wonderful.  Dialectic 
division  is  carried  to  its  extreme  among  them  ;  the  isolating 
and  diversifying  tendencies  have  had  full  course,  with  little 
counteraction  from  tiie  conserving  and  assimilating  forces. 
The  coniini'nt  seems  ever  to  have  been  peopled  by  a  con- 
gi'rics  of  [X'tty  tribes,  incessantly  at  warfare,  or  standing  off 
fiom  one  another  in  jealous  and  suspicious  seclusit)n.  Cer- 
l.ii.i  sti'ikiiig  exceptions,  it  is  true,  are  present  to  the  mind  of 
f:\ciy  one.      ^lexico,  Central  America,  and  Peru,  at  the  time 


IX.]  AMERICAN    LANGUAGES.  347 

of  the  Spanish  discovery  and  conquest,  were  the  seat  of 
empires  possessing  an  organized  system  of  government,  with 
national  creeds  and  institutions,  with  modes  of  writing  and 
styles  of  architecture,  and  other  appliances  of  a  considerably 
developed  culture,  of  indigenous  origin.  Such  relics,  too, 
as  the  great  mounds  which  are  scattered  so  widely  through 
our  western  country,  and  the  ancient  workings  upon  tlie 
veins  and  ledges  of  native  copper  along  the  southern  shore 
of  Lake  Superior,  show  that  other  large  portions  of  the 
northern  continent  had  not  always  been  in  the  same  savage 
condition  as  that  in  which  our  ancestors  found  them.  Yet 
these  were  exceptions  only,  not  changing  the  general  rule ; 
and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that,  as  the  civilization  of  the 
Mississippi  valley  had  been  extinguished  by  the  incursion 
and  conquest  of  more  barbarous  tribes,  so  a  similar  fate  was 
threatening  that  of  the  southern  peoples :  that,  in  fact, 
American  culture  was  on  its  way  to  destruction  even  with- 
out European  interference,  as  European  culture  for  a  time 
had  seemed  to  be,  durins:  the  Dark  Agfes  which  attended  the 
downfall  of  the  E/Oman  empire.  If  the  differentiation  of 
American  language  has  been  thus  unchecked  by  the  influence 
of  culture,  it  has  been  also  favoured  by  the  influence  of  the 
variety  of  climate  and  mode  of  life.  While  the  other  great 
families  occupy,  for  the  most  part,  oae  region  or  one  zone, 
the  American  tribes  have  been  exposed  to  all  the  difference 
of  circumstan -es  which  can  find  place  between  the  Arctic 
and  the  Antarctic  oceans,  amid  ice-fields,  mountains,  valleys, 
on  dry  table-lands  and  in  reeking  river-basins,  along  shores 
of  every  clime.  Moreover,  these  languages  have  shown 
themselves  to  possess  a  peculiar  mobility  and  changeableness 
of  material.  There  are  groups  of  kindred  tribes  whose 
separation  is  known  to  be  of  not  very  long  standing,  but  in 
whose  speech  the  correspondences  are  almost  overwhelmed 
and  hidden  from  sight  by  the  discordances  which  have  sprung 
up.  In  more  than  one  tongue  it  has  been  remarked  that 
books  of  instruction  prepared  by  missionaries  have  become 
antiquated  and  almost  unintelligible  in  three  or  four  genera- 
tions. Add  to  all  this,  that  our  knowledge  of  the  family  be- 
gins in  the  most  recent  period,  less  than  four  hundred  yeara 


348  LANGUAGES   OF   THE  [LKCT. 

ago ;  that,  thoiigli  it  has  been  since  penetrated  and  pressed 
on  every  side  by  cultivated  nations,  the  efforts  made  to  collect 
and  preserve  information  respecting  it  have  been  only  spas- 
modic and  fragmentary  ;  that  it  is  almost  wholly  destitute  of 
literature,  and  even  of  traditions  of  any  authority  and  value  ; 
and  that  great  numbers  of  its  constituent  members  have 
perished,  in  the  wasting  away  of  the  tribes  by  mutual  war- 
fare, by  pestilence  and  famine,  and  by  the  encroachments  of 
more  powerful  races — and  it  will  be  clearly  seen  that  the 
comprehensive  comparative  study  of  American  languages  is 
beset  with  very  great  difficulties. 

Yet  it  is  the  confident  opinion  of  linguistic  scholars  that  a 
fundamental  unity  lies  at  tlie  base  of  all  these  infinitely  vary- 
ing forms  of  speech  ;  that  they  may  be,  and  probably  are,  all 
descended  from  a  single  parent  language.*  For,  whatever 
their  differences  of  material,  there  is  a  single  type  or  plan 
upon  which  their  forms  are  developed  and  their  constructions 
made,  from  the  Arctic  Ocean  to  Cape  Horn  ;  and  one  suffi- 
ciently peculiar  and  distinctive  to  constitute  a  genuine  indi- 
cation of  relationship.  This  type  is  called  the  iucorporative 
or  polysynthetic.  It  tends  to  the  excessive  and  abnormal 
agglomeration  of  distinct  significant  elements  in  its  words  ; 
whereby,  on  the  one  hand,  cumbrous  compounds  are  formed 
as  the  names  of  objects,  and  a  character  of  tedious  and  time- 
wasting  polysyllabism  is  given  to  the  language — see,  for 
example,  the  three  to  ten-syllabled  numei'al  and  pronominal 
words  of  our  western  Indian  tongues  ;  or  the  Mexican  name 
for  '  goat,'  Tcwa-kwaith  tentsone,  literally  '  head-tree  (horn)- 
lip-hair  (beard),'  or  'the  horned  and  bearded  one' — and,  on 
the  other  hand,  and  what  is  of  yet  more  importance,  an 
unwieldy  aggregation,  verbal  or  quasi-yevhB\^  is  substituted 

*  T  make  no  account  here  of  isolated  dialects  of  an  exceptional  character, 
like  the  Otomi  in  central  Mexico,  which  is  asserted  to  he  u  monosyllabic  lan« 
n^ua<?e  ;  nor  of  others  which  may  exhibit  the  characteristic  features  of  Ameri- 
can speech  so  faintly,  or  in  such  a  modified  form,  as  to  be  hardly  recognizable 
by  their  strurture  as  American  :  it  remains  yet  to  be  determined  whetlier 
Buch  seeminir  exceptions  do  or  do  not  admit  of  explanation  as  the  result  of 
special  liistorieal  development.  Nor,  of  course,  is  tlie  p(is>ibility  denied  that 
fuUer  knowled'^e  will  oi  ing  to  light  tongues  radically  and  irreconcilably  dis« 
coriaiit  from  tlie  general  type. 


DC.]  AMEEICAN    FAMILY.  S^t9 

for  tlie  phrase  or  sentcuce,  'with  its  distinct  and  balanced 
members.  Thus,  the  Mexican  says  "  I-flesh-eat,"  as  a  single 
word,  compounded  of  three  elements ;  or  if,  for  emphasis, 
the  object  is  left  to  stand  separate,  it  is  at  least  first  repre- 
sented by  a  pronoun  in  the  verbal  compound :  as,  "  I-it-eat, 
the  flesh  ; "  or  "  I-it-him-give^  the  bread,  my  son,"  for  "  I 
give  my  son  the  bread." 

The  incorporative  type  is  not  wholly  peculiar  to  the  lan- 
guages of  our  continent.  A  trace  of  it  (in  the  insertion, 
among  the  verbal  forms,  of  an  objective  as  well  as  a  subject- 
ive pronominal  ending)  is  found  even  in  one  of  the  TJgrian 
dialects  of  the  Scythian  family,  the  Hungarian ;  and  the 
Basque,  of  which  we  shall  presently  speak  more  particu- 
larly, exhibits  it  in  a  very  notable  measure.  It  is  found,  too, 
in  considerably  varying  degree  and  style  of  development  in 
the  different  branches  of  the  American  family.  But  its 
general  eflect  is  still  such  that  the  linguist  is  able  to  claim 
that  the  languages  to  which  it  belongs  are,  in  virtue  of 
their  structure,  akin  with  one  another,  and  distinguished 
from  all  other  known  tongnies. 

Not  only  do  the  subjective  and  objective  pronouns  thus 
enter  into  the  substance  of  the  verb,  but  also  a  great  variety 
of  modifiers  of  the  verbal  action,  adverbs,  in  the  form  of 
particles  and  fragments  of  words ;  thus,  almost  everything 
which  helps  to  make  expression  forms  a  part  of  verbal  con- 
jugation, and  the  verbal  paradigm  becomes  well-nigh  inter- 
minable. An  extreme  instance  of  excessive  synthesis  is  af- 
forded in  the  Cherokee  word-phrase  wi-ni-taw-ti-ge-gi-na-li- 
skaw-lung-ta-7iaw-ne-li-ti-se-sti,  '  they  will  by  that  time  have 
nearly  finished  granting  [favours]  from  a  distance  to  thee 
and  me.'  * 

Other  common  traits,  which  help  to  strengthen  our  con- 
clusion that  these  languages  are  ultimately  related,  are  not 
wanting.  Such  are,  for  example,  the  habit  of  combining 
words  by  fragments,  by  one  or  two  representative  syllables ; 
the  direct  conversion  of  nouns,  substantive  and  adjective, 
into  verbs,  and  their  conjugation   as   such  ;  peculiarities  of 

•  A.  Gallatin  in  ArchsDologia  Americana,  vol.  ii.  (Cambridge,  1836),  p.  201, 


350  CHARACTER   AND    CONNECTIONS  [lBCT, 

generic  dliitinction — -ninny  languages  dividing  animate  from 
inanimate  beings  (somewhat  as  we  do  by  the  use  of  ivho  and 
what),  with  arbitrary  and  fanciful  details  of  classification, 
like  those  exhibited  by  the  Indo-European  languages  in  their 
separation  of  masculine  and  feminine  ;  the  possession  of  a 
very  peculiar  scheme  for  denoting  the  degrees  of  family 
relationsliip  ;  and  so  on. 

As  regards  their  material  constitution,  their  assignment  of 
certain  sounds  to  represent  certain  ideas,  our  Indian  dialects 
show,  as  already  remarked,  a  very  great  discordance.  It  has 
been  claimed  that  there  are  not  less  than  a  hundred  lan- 
guages or  groups  upon  the  continent,  between  whose  words 
are  discoverable  no  correspondences  which  might  not  be  suf- 
ficiently explained  as  the  result  of  accident.  Doubtless  a 
more  thorough  and  sharpsighted  investigation,  a  more  pene- 
trating linguistic  analysis  and  comparison — though,  under 
existing  circumstances,  any  even  distant  approximation  to 
the  actual  beginning  may  be  hopeless — would  considerably 
reduce  this  number;  yet  there  might  still  remain  as  many 
unconnected  groups  as  zrre  to  be  found  in  all  Europe  and 
Asia.  It  is  needless  to  undertake  here  an  enumeration  of 
the  divisions  of  Indian  speech :  we  will  but  notice  a  few  of 
the  most  important  grou2)s  occupying  our  own  portion  of 
the  continent. 

In  the  extreme  north,  along  the  wliole  shore  of  the  Arctic 
ocean,  are  the  Eskimo  dialects,  with  which  is  nearly  allied  the 
G-reenlandish.  Below  them  is  spread  out,  on  the  west,  the 
great  Athaj)askaTi  group.  On  the  east,  and  as  far  south  as 
the  line  of  Tennessee  and  Nortli  Carolina,  stretches  the  im- 
mense region  occupied  by  the  numerous  dialects  of  the 
Algonquin  or  Delaware  stock;  within  it,  however,  is  enclosed 
the  distinct  branch  of  Iroquois  languages.  Our  south-east- 
ern states  were  in  possession  of  the  Florida  group,  compris- 
ing the  Creek,  Ch(H-taw,and  Ciierokee.  Tiie  great  nation  of 
the  Sioux  or  Dakotas  gives  its  name  to  the  l)ranch  which  oc- 
cupied I  lie  Missouri  valley  and  paits  of  the  lower  Mississippi. 
Another  wide-spread  sub-family,  including  the  Shoshonee  and 
Comanche,  I'anged  from  the  shores  of  Texas  north-westward 
to  the  borders  of  California  and  the  territory  of  the  Atha- 


IX.]  OP    AMERICAN    LANGUAGES.  351 

pasl^as  ;  and  tlie  Pacific  coast  was  occupied  by  a  medley  of 
tribes.  Mexico  and  Central  America,  finally,  were  the  homo 
of  a  great  variety  of  tongues,  that  of  the  cultivated  Aztecs, 
with  its  kindred,  having  the  widest  range. 

The  linguistic  condition  of  America,  and  the  state  of  our 
knowledge  respecting  it,  being  such  as  we  have  here  seen,  it 
is  evident   how  futile  must  be  at  present  any  attempt  to 
prove  by  the  evidence  of  language  the  peopling  of  the  conti- 
nent from  Asia,  or  from  any  other  part  of  the  world  outside, 
'We  have  already  noticed  that  a  relationship  is  asserted  to 
exist  between  the  Eskimo  branch  of  American  lanjruao^e  and 
a  dialect  or  two  in  the  extreme  north-east  of  Asia ;  but  the 
fact  that  it  is  a  specifically  Eskimo  relationship  is  suflicieut 
to  prove  its  worthlessness  as  a  help  to  the  explanation  of 
the  origin  of  American  language  in  general,  and  to  make  it 
probable    that    the    communication    there    has    been    from 
America  to  Asia,  and  not  the  contrary.     To  enter  upon  a 
bare  and  direct  comparison  of  modern  American  with  modern 
Asiatic   dialects,   for   the   purpose   of   discovering   signs   of 
genetic   connection   between   them,  would   be  a  proceeding 
utterly   at    variance    with    all   the    principles    of   linguistic 
science,  and   could  lead  to  no  results  possessing  any  signifi- 
cance or  value.      One  might  as  well  compare  togetlier  the 
English,  the  modern  Syriac,  and  the  Hungarian,  in  order  to 
determine  the  ultimate  relationship  of  the  Indo-European, 
Semitic,   and    Scythian    families.      Sound    method    (as    was 
pointed  out  in  the  sixth  lecture)  requires  that  we  study  each 
dialect,  group,  branch,  and  family  by  itself,  before  we  venture 
to  examine  and  pronounce  upon  its  more  distant  connections. 
What  we  have  to  do  at  present,  then,  is  simply  to  learn  all 
that  w^e  possibly  can  of  the  Indian  languages  themselves  ;  to 
settle  their  internal  relations,  elicit  their  laws  of  growth, 
reconstruct  their  older  forms,  and  ascend  toward  their   ori- 
ginal condition  as  far  as  the  material  within  our  reach,  and 
the    state    in    which    it    is    presented,   will   allow ;     if   our 
studies  shall  at  length  put  us  in  a  position  to  deal  with  the 
question  of  their  Asiatic  derivation,  we  will  rejoice  at  it.      I 
do  not  myself  expect  that  valuable  light  will  ever  be   shed 
upon  the  subject  by  linguistic  evidence:  others  may  be  mor© 


352  STUDY   OP   AMERICAN    LANGUAGES.  [lECTC 

Banguine  ;  but  all  must  at  any  rate  ap^ree  that,  as  things  are» 
the  subject  is  in  no  position  to  be  taken  up  and  discussed 
with  profit.  The  absurd  theories  which  have  been  advanced 
and  gravely  defended  by  men  of  learning  and  acuteness  re- 
specting the  origin  of  the  Indian  races  are  hardly  worth  even 
a  passing  reference.  The  culture  of  the  more  advanced 
communities  has  been  irrefragably  proved  to  be  derived  from 
Egypt,  Phenicia,  India,  and  nearly  every  other  anciently 
civilized  country  of  the  Old  AVorld :  the  whole  history  of 
migration  of  the  tribes  themselves  has  been  traced  in  detail 
over  Behring's  Straits,  through  the  islands  of  the  Pacific,  and 
across  tlie  Atlantic  ;  they  have  been  identified  with  the 
Canaanites,  whom  Joshua  and  the  Israelites  exterminated  ; 
and,  worst  of  all,  with  the  ten  Israelitish  tribes  deported  from 
their  own  country  by  the  sovereigns  of  JNIesopotamia  !  "\\  hen 
men  sit  down  with  minds  crammed  with  scattering  items  of 
historical  information,  abounding  prejudices,  and  teeming 
fancies,  to  the  solution  of  questions  respecting  whose  con- 
ditions they  know  nothing,  there  is  no  folly  which  they  are 
not  prepared  to  commit. 

Our  national  duty  and  honour  are  peculiarly  concerned  in 
this  matter  of  the  study  of  aboriginal  American  languages, 
as  the  most  fertile  and  important  branch  of  American  archae- 
ology. Europeans  accuse  us,  with  too  much  reason,  of 
indifference  and  inefficiency  with  regard  to  preserving  me- 
morials of  the  races  whom  we  have  dispossessed  and  are  dis- 
possessing, and  to  promoting  a  thorough  comprehension 
of  their  history.  Indian  scholars,  and  associations  which 
devote  themselves  to  gathering  together  and  making  public 
linguistic  and  other  archa?ological  materials  for  construction 
of  the  proper  ethnology  of  the  continent,  are  far  rarer  than 
they  should  be  among  us.  Not  a  literary  institution  in  oup 
country  has  among  its  teachers  one  whose  business  it  is  to 
investigate  the  languages  of  our  aboriginal  populations,  and 
to  acquire  and  dilfuse  true  knowledge  respecting  them  and 
their  history.*  So  much  the  more  reason  have  we  to  be 
grateful  to  the  few  who  are  endeavouring  to  make  up  our  de- 

*  This  reproach,  at  least,  is  about  to  be  removed,  by  the  establishment  of 
A  chair  of  American  archaeology  at  Cambridge. 


i 


XX.]  BASQUE    LANGUAGE.  So 3 

ficiencles  h\  self-prompted  study,  and  especially  to  those 
Bclf-denying  men  who,  under  circumstnuces  of  no  sniall  dif- 
ficulty, are  or  have  been  devoting  themselves  to  the  "uork  of 
collecting  and  giving  to  the  \vorld  original  materials.  The 
Smithsonian  Institution  has  recently  taken  upon  itself  the 
office  of  encouraging,  guiding,  and  giving  eftect  to  the 
labours  of  collectors,  under  special  advantages  derived  from 
its  relation  to  the  Grovernment,  with  laudable  zeal,  and  with 
the  best  promise  of  valuable  results.  No  department  of  in- 
quiry, certainly,  within  the  circle  of  the  historical  sciences, 
has  a  stronger  claim  upon  the  attention  of  such  a  national 
institution  ;  and  it  becomes  all  Americans  to  countenance 
and  aid  its  efforts  by  every  means  in  their  power. 

Before  closing  this  cursory  and  imperfect  survey  of  the 
varieties  of  human  language,  we  have  to  glance  at  one  or 
two  dialects  or  groups  of  dialects  which  have  hitherto  re- 
sisted all  attempts  at  classification.  Most  noteworthy 
among  these  is  the  Basque,  spoken  in  a  little  district  of  the 
Pyrenees,  on  both  sides  of  the  border  between  France  and 
Spain,  enveloping  the  angle  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  between 
Bayonne  and  Balbao.  The  Basques  are  well  identified  as 
descended  from  the  primitive  Iberian  population  which  is 
supposed  to  have  filled  the  Spanish  peninsula  before  the  in- 
trusion of  the  Celts:  their  stubborn  and  persistent  character 
and  the  inaccessibility  of  their  mountain  retreats  have 
enabled  their  native  idiom  successfully  to  resist  the  assimi- 
lating influences  exercised  by  successive  Celtic,  Koman,  and 
Gothic  conquest  and  domination.  It  stands,  so  far  as  is  yet 
known,  alone  among  the  languages  of  mankind  ;  kindred  has 
been  sought  and  even  claimed  for  it  in  every  direction,  but 
to  no  good  purpose.  It  is,  then,  naturally  enough  conjec- 
tured to  be  a  sole  surviving  remnant  of  the  speech  of  an  ab- 
original race,  peopling  some  part  of  Europe  before  the 
immigration  of  the  Indo-European  tribes,  perhaps  before 
that  of  the  Scythian ;  and  the  possibility  that  it  may  be  so 
invests  it  with  an  unusual  degree  of  interest.  Its  structure 
is  exceedingly  peculiar,  intricate,  and  difficult  of  analysis. 
As  w^  have  already  had  occasion  to  notice,  it  possesses  much 
more   striking  analogies   with   the  aboriginal  languages  of 

23 


.S5ir  ETRUSCAN    AND    CAUCASIAN    LANGUAGES.  [LKCTi 

j^m«^rlra  tlmn  with  any  others  that  are  known:  like  them,  it 
is  liighly  polysynthctic,  incorporating  into  its  verbal  forms  a 
host  of  pronominal  relations  which  are  elsewhere  expressed 
by  independent  words  ;  like  them,  also,  it  compounds  words 
together  by  representative  fragments.  But  it  does  not 
show  the  same  tendency  to  fuse  the  whole  sentence  into  a 
verb ;  its  nouns  have  an  inflection  which  is  much  more 
Scythian  than  American  in  type ;  and  there  are  other  differ- 
ences which  distinctly  enough  discourage  the  conjecture  that 
it  can  be  historically  akin  with  the  tongues  of  this  continent. 
Some  other  among  the  various  populations  of  southern  Eu- 
rope, treated  by  the  ancients  as  of  strange  tongue  and  line- 
age, and  which  have  now  totally  disappeared,  may  possibly 
have  been  akin  with  the  Basques  :  such  questions  are  cover- 
ed with  a  darkness  which  we  cannot  hope  ever  to  see  dis- 
pelled. 

In  Italy  are  still  found  the  relics  of  one  of  these  isolated 
and  perished  peoples,  the  Etruscans.  They  were  a  race  of 
much  higher  culture  than  the  Basques,  and  their  neighbour- 
hood to  Home,  and  their  resulting  influence,  peaceful  and 
warlike,  upon  her  growing  polity  and  developing  history, 
give  them  a  historical  importance  to  which  the  Iberian  race 
can  lay  no  claim.  Inscriptions  in  their  language,  written  in 
legible  characters,  and  in  some  instances  of  assured  mean- 
ing, are  preserved  to  our  day  ;  yet  its  linguistic  character 
and  connections  are  an  unsolved  and  probably  insoluble 
problem.  Every  few  years,  some,  one  of  those  philologists 
whose  judgments  are  easily  taken  captive  by  a  few  superfi- 
cial correspondences  claims  to  have  proved  its  relationship 
with  some  known  family,  and  thus  to  have  determined  the 
ethnological  position  of  the  race  that  spoke  it ;  but  his  argu- 
ments and  conclusions  are  soon  set  aside  as  of  no  more  value 
than  others  already  offered  and  rejected. 

Again,  there  is  found  in  the  mountain-range  of  the  Cau- 
casus a  little  knot  of  idioms  which  have  hitherto  baffled  the 
efforts  of  linguistic  scholars  to  connect  them  with  other 
known  forms  of  speech.  Their  principal  groups  are  four  : 
the  Georgian  and  the  Circassian  stretch  along  the  southern 
and  northern  shores  respectively  of  the  eastern  extremity  of 


IS.]  ISOLATED    LANGUAGES.  355 

the  Black  Sea,  and  tlirougli  the  mountains  nearly  to  th^ 
Caspian ;  the  Lesghian  borders  the  Caspian ;  and  the 
Mitsjeghian  lies  between  it  and  the  Circassian.  The  G-eor- 
gian  possesses  a  peculiar  alphabet  and  a  literature ;  but  the 
whole  group,  except  as  it  presents  a  problem  for  the  solu- 
tion of  the  linguistic  ethnographer,  has  no  special  import- 
ance. 

The  Albanian  or  Skipetar,  the  modern  representative  of 
tbe  ancient  Illyrian,  has  already  been  spoken  of  as  doubt- 
fully classifiable  with  the  Indo-European  languages.  If  its 
connection  with  them  shall  not  finally  be  made  out  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  learned,  it,  too,  will  have  to  be  numbered 
among  the  isolated  and  problematical  tongues. 

One  more  Asiatic  dialect  may  be  worth  a  moment's  notice: 
the  Yenisean,  occupying  a  tract  of  country  along  the  middle 
course  of  the  Yenisei,  with  traces  in  the  mountains  about 
the  head  waters  of  that  river ;  it  belongs  to  the  feeble  and 
scanty  remnant  of  a  people  which  is  lost  in  the  midst  of 
Scythian  tribes,  and  apparently  destined  to  be  ere  long  ab- 
sorbed by  them,  but  which  is  proved  to  be  of  different  race 
by  its  wholly  discordant  language. 

The  number  of  such  isolated  tongues  is,  of  course,  liable  to 
be  increased  as  we  come  to  know  more  thoroughly  the  linguistic 
condition  of  regions  of  the  world  which  are  as  yet  only  par- 
tially explored.  There  is  a  possibility  that  many  types  ^f 
speech,  once  spread  over  wide  domains,  may  exist  at  prese.it 
only  in  scanty  fragments,  as  well  as  that  some  may  ha  76 
disappeared  altogether,  ^.eaving  not  even  a  trace  behind 


866 


LECTURE  X. 

Classification  of  languages.  Morphological  classifications  ;  their  defecta* 
Schleicher's  morphological  notation.  Classification  by  general  rank. 
Superior  value  of  genetic  division.  Bearing  of  linguistic  science  on 
ethnology.  Comparative  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  linguistic 
and  physical  evidence  of  race.  Indo-European  language  and  race 
mainly  coincident.  Difficulty  of  the  ethnological  problem.  Inability 
of  language  to  prove  either  unity  or  variety  of  human  species.  Acci- 
dental correspondences  ;  futility  of  root  comparisons. 

Our  inquiries  into  the  history  and  relations  of  human 
hxnguages  have  la«t  brought  us  to  a  review  and  brief  exam- 
ination of  their  groupings  into  families,  so  far  as  yet  accom- 
plished by  the  labours  of  linguistic  students.  The  fiimiliea 
may  be  briefly  recapitulated  as  follows.  First  in  rank  and 
importance  is  the  Indo-European,  filling  nearly  the  whole  of 
central  and  southern  Europe,  together  with  no  inconsider- 
able portion  of  south-western  Asia,  and  with  colonies  in 
every  quarter  of  the  globe ;  it  includes  the  languages  of 
nearly  all  the  modern,  and  of  some  of  the  most  important  of 
the  ancient,  civilized  and  civilizing  races.  Next  is  the 
Semitic,  of  prominence  in  the  world's  history  second  only  to 
the  Indo-European,  having  its  station  in  Arabia  and  the 
uei}i:hl)()urinLr  rejjions  of  Asia  and  Africa.  Then  follows  the 
loosely  aggregated  family  of  the  Scythian  dialects,  as  we 
chose  to  term  them,  ranging  from  Norway  almost  to 
Behring's  Straits,  and  occupying  a  good  part  of  central  Asia 
also,  with  outliers  in  southern  Europe  (Hungary  and 
Turkey),  and  post^ibly  in  southernmost  Asia  (the  Dekhan,  or 
peninsula  of  [ndia).      Further,  the  south-eastern  Asiatic  or 


X.]  CLASSIFICATION    OF    LANGUAGES.  3^7 

mouosylla"bic  family,  in  China  and  Farther  India,  ana 
countries  adjacent  to  these  ;  the  Malay-Polynesian  and 
Melanesirtn,  scattered  over  the  numberless  islands  of  the 
Pacific  and  Indian  Oceans ;  the  Hamitic,  composed  of  the 
Egyptian  and  its  congeners,  chiefly  in  northern  Africa  ;  the 
South-^  frican,  filling  Africa  about  and  beloNV  the  equator ; 
and  the  American,  covering  Avith  its  greatly  varied  forma 
our  western  continent,  from  the  Arctic  Ocean  to  the  Antarctic. 
Ijesides  these  great  families,  we  took  note  of  several  isolated 
languages  or  lesser  gioups,  of  doubtful  or  wholly  unknown 
relationship :  as  those  in  extreme  north-eastern  Asia,  in  the 
Caucasian  mountains,  in  central  Africa ;  as  the  Basque  in 
the  Pyrenees,  the  Albanian  in  north-western  Greece,  the 
Tenisean  in  Siberia,  and  the  extinct  Etruscan  in  northern 
Italy. 

The   scheme  of  classification,  as  thus   drawn   out,  was  a 
genetical  one,  founded  on  actual  historical  relationship.    Each 
family   or    group    was    intended  to  be   made   up   of  those 
tongues  which  there  is  found  sufiicient  reason  to  regard  as 
kindred  dialects,  as  common  descendants  of  the  same  original. 
"We  were  obliged,  however,  to  confess  that  our  classification 
had   not   everywhere  the   same  value,  as  the  evidences  of 
relationship  were  not  of  an  equally  unequivocal  character  in  all 
the  families,  or  else  had  been  thus  far  incompletely  gathered 
in  and  examined.     AYhere,  as  in  the  case  of  Indo-European 
and  Semitic  speech,  we  find  structural  accordance  combined 
with  identity  of  material,  as  traced  out  and  determined  by 
long-continued  and  penetrating  study  on  the  part  of  many 
investigators,  there  the  unity  of  the  families  is  placed  beyond 
the  reach  of  reasonable  doubt.     But  it  is  unfortunately  true 
that  these  two  are  the  only  groups  of  wide  extent  and  first- 
rate  importance  respecting  which  the  linguistic  student  can 
speak  with  such  fulness  of  confidence  ;  everywhere  else,  there 
is  either  some  present  deficiency  of  information,  which  time 
may  or  may  not  remove,  or  the  conditions  are  such  that  our 
belief  in  the  genetic  relationship  must  rest  upon  the  more 
questionable  ground  of  correspondence  in  structural  develop- 
ment,    "We    may  by   no    means    deny  that    morphological 
accordance  is  capable  of  rising  to  such  a  value  as  should 


358  MORPHOLOGICAL    CLASSIFICATIONS  [LECT. 

make  it  a  sufficient  and  convincing  evidence  of  genetic 
unity  ;  but  it  is  evidently  of  a  less  direct  and  unmistakable 
character  than  material  identity,  and  requires  for  its  estima- 
tion a  uider  range  of  knowledge,  a  more  acute  insight,  and  a 
more  cautious  judgment.  If  two  languages  agree  in  the 
very  material  of  which  their  words  and  apparatus  of  gram- 
matical inflection  are  composed,  to  a  degree  beyond  what 
can  possibly  be  regarded  as  the  efiect  of  accident  or  of 
borrowing,  the  conclusion  that  they  are  akin  is  inevitable  ; 
nothing  but  community  of  linguistic  tradition  can  explain 
such  phenomena :  but  agreement  in  the  style  only  in  which 
words  are  composed  and  thought  expressed  admits  of  being 
attributed  to  causes  other  than  historical — to  equality  of 
mental  endowment,  of  intellectual  force  and  training:.  We 
may  look  hopefully  forward  to  the  time  when  linguistic 
Bcience  shall  have  reached  such  a  pitch  of  perfection,  shall 
have  so  thoroughly  mastered  the  infinitely  varied  phenomena 
of  universal  human  language  and  traced  out  their  causes, 
that  she  shall  be  able  to  separate  with  certainty  the  effects 
of  ethnic  capacity  from  those  of  transmitted  habit :  but  that 
time  has  certainly  not  yet  come ;  and,  as  the  value  of  mor- 
phological accordances  as  evidence  of  genetic  connection  has 
hitherto  been  repeatedly  overrated,  so  it  will  long,  and 
always  in  unskilful  or  incautious  hands,  be  peculiarly  liable 
to  a  like  mistreatment. 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  refer  to  and  describe 
some  of  the  principal  structural  peculiarities  which  are  illus- 
trated in  the  variety  of  human  tongues  ;  but  it  will  be  worth 
while  here  to  bestow  a  few  words  farther  upon  them,  and 
upon  the  systems  of  morphological  classification  to  which 
they  have  served  as  foundation. 

The  languages  of  mankind  have  been  divided  into  two 
grand  classes,  the  monosyllabic  (otherwise  called  isolating, 
or  radical)  and  the  polysyllabic  (or  inflectional).  To  the 
former  belong  the  tongues  of  China  and  Farther  India,  with 
their  relatives  in  the  same  quarter  of  Asia,  and  perliaps  one 
or  two  idioms  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  In  them  there  is  a 
formal  identity  of  root  and  word  ;  none  of  their  vocables  we 
made  up  of  radical  and  formative  elements,  the  one  giving 


X.]  OF   lUANGUAGES.  359 

the  principal  idea,  the  other  indiuating  its  limitation,  appll- 
cation,  or  relation;  they  possess  no  forinally  distingni^^hed 
parts  of  speech.  Usage  may  assign  to  some  of  their  roots 
the  oifices  which  in  inflectional  tongues  are  filled  by  inflective 
endings,  snffixes  or  prefixes ;  it  may  also  stamp  some  as 
adjectives,  others  as  nouns,  as  pronouns,  as  verbs,  and  so 
on  :  yet  means  of  this  sort  can  only  partially  supply  their 
lack  of  the  resources  possessed  by  more  happily  developed 
languages ;  categories  undistinguished  in  expression  are  but 
imperfectly,  if  at  all,  distinguished  in  apprehension  ;  thought 
is  but  brokenly  represented  and  feebly  aided  by  its  instru- 
ment. To  the  latter,  or  inflectional  class,  belong  all  the 
other  languages  of  the  world,  which,  whatever  and  however 
great  their  differences,  have  at  least  this  in  common,  that 
their  signs  of  category  and  relation  are  not  always  separate 
words,  but  parts  of  other  words,  that  their  vocables  are,  to 
Bome  extent,  made  up  of  at  least  two  elements,  the  one 
radical,  the  other  formative.  There  can  be,  it  is  evident,  no 
more  fundamental  diff'erence  in  linguistic  structure  than 
this.  And  yet,  it  is  not  an  absolute  and  determinate  one. 
It  lies  in  the  nature  of  the  case  that,  as  the  inflectional  lan- 
guages have  grown  out  of  a  monosyllabic  and  non-inflecting 
stage,  there  should  be  certain  tongues,  as  there  are  in  other 
tongues  certain  forms,  which  stand  so  closely  upon  the  line  of 
division  between  the  two  stages,  that  it  is  hard  to  tell  whether 
they  are  the  one  thing  or  the  other.  In  our  own  tongue,  there 
is  no  definite  division-line  to  be  drawn  anywhere  in  the 
series  of  steps  that  conducts  from  a  mere  collocation  to  a 
pure  form -word — from  house  floor  to  house-top,  from  tear -filled 
to  tearful,  from  godlike  to  godly  ;  and,  in  like  manner,  it  is 
often  a  matter  of  doubt,  in  languages  of  low  development, 
where  isolation  ends  and  where  a  loose  asffflutination  hesfins. 
Thus,  even  the  Chinese,  the  purest  type  of  the  isolating 
structure,  is  by  some  regarded  as,  in  its  colloquial  forms,  and 
yet  more  in  some  of  its  dialects,  a  language  of  compounded 
words  ;  and  the  possession  of  one  or  two  real  formative  ele- 
ments has  been  claimed  for  the  Burmese  ;  while  the  Hima- 
laya is  likely  to  furnish  dialects  whose  character,  as  isolateof 
or  agglutinative,  will  be  much  disputed. 


oOO  MORPHOLOGICAL    CLASSIFICATIONS  [LHCrT. 

Eut  the  main  objection  to  the  classification  we  are  con- 
si'li  ring  is  not  so  much  its  want  of  absolute  distinctness  (a 
defect  incident  to  all  classification,  in  every  department  of 
science)  as  its  one-sidedness :  it  is  too  much  like  the  pro- 
verbial lover's  division  of  the  world  into  two  parts,  that 
where  the  beloved  object  is  and  that  where  she  is  not :  it 
leaves  almost  all  human  tonijues  in  one  huere  class  togfether. 
Accordingly  a  much  more  popular  and  current  system  dis- 
tinguishes three  primary  orders,  separating  the  mass  of 
inflectional  languages  into  such  as  are  agglutinative,  or 
attach  their  formative  elements  somewhat  loosely  to  a  root 
which  is  not  liable  to  variation ;  and  such  as  are  inflective, 
Dr  unite  more  thoroughly  their  radical  and  formative  ele- 
ments, and  make  internal  changes  of  the  root  itself  bear 
their  part,  either  primarily  or  secondarily,  in  the  expression 
of  grammatical  relations.  The  distinction  between  these 
three  orders  is  well  expressed  by  Professor  Max  Midler  in 
the  following  terms  : — 

"  1.  Eoots  may  be  used  as  words,  each  root  preserving  ita 
full  independence.  •  /■*^yi>->:^^c.c*>l^   t*^-^  -j ' .    (fi  ,»o^i  -  i'*v^«'  ^^<^ 

"2.  Two  roots  may  be  joined  together  to  form  words, 
and  in  these  compounds  one  root  may  lose  its  independence. - 

"  3.  Two  roots  may  be  joined  together  to  form  words, 
and  in  these  compounds  both  roots  may  lose  their  independ- 
ence."* 

No  better  scheme  of  division,  of  a  simple  and  comprehen- 
sive character,  has  yet  been  devised  than  this,  and  it  is  likely 
to  maintain  itself  long  in  use.  It  fiiithfully  represents,  in 
the  main,  three  successive  stages  in  the  history  of  language, 
three  ascending  grades  of  linguistic  development.  But  its 
value  must  not  be  overrated,  nor  its  defects  passed  without 
notice.  In  the  tirst  place,  it  does  not  include  all  the  possible 
and  actually  realized  varieties  in  the  mode  of  formation  of 
words.  It  leaves  altogether  out  of  account  that  internal 
change  of  vowels  which,  as  was  shown  in  the  eighth  lecture, 
is  the  characteristic  and  principal  moans  of  grammatical 
inflection  in  the  Semitic  tongues.  The  distinctions  of  qatala^ 
*  he  killed,'  ^w///a,  'he  was  killed,'  qattala,  *  he  massacred,* 
•  IjC'cturcs,  fast  series,  eighth  lecture. 


X.]  AND    THEIR   DEFECTS.  361 

qdtala,  '  Ke  tried  to  kill,'  aqfala,  '  lie  caused  to  kill,'  and  the 
like,  are  not  explainable  by  any  composition  of  roots  and  loss 
of  tlieir  independence,  even  thoiigli  the  somewhat  analogous 
differences  of  man  aud  men,  lead  and  led,  sing  and  sang,  sit 
and  set,  do  admit  of  such  explanation.  In  the  second  place, 
it  is  liable  to  something  of  the  same  reproach  of  one-sided- 
ness  which  lies  against  the  former,  the  double  method  of 
classification.  It  puts  into  a  separate  class,  as  inflective 
languages,  only  two  families,  the  Indo-European  and  the 
Semitic  :  these  are,  to  be  sure,  of  wide  extent  and  unap- 
proached  importance ;  yet  the  mass  of  spoken  tongues  is 
still  left  in  one  immense  and  heterogeneous  body.  And 
finally,  a  yet  more  fuidamental  objection  to  the  scheme  is 
this  heterogeneity,  wliich  characterizes  not  its  middle  class 
alone,  but  its  highest  also.  It  classes  Indo-European  and 
Semitic  speech  to^^ether,  as  morphologically  alike,  while  yet 
their  structural  discordance  is  vastly  greater  than  that 
which  separates  Indo-Europeau  from  many  of  the  agglutina- 
tive tongues — in  some  respects,  even  greater  than  that 
which  separates  Indo-European  from  the  generality  of  agglu- 
tinative and  from  the  isolating  tongues.  Not  only  are  the 
higher  Scythian  dialects,  as  the  Finnish  and  Hungarian, 
almost  inflective,  and  inflective  upon  a  plan  which  is  suffi- 
ciently analogous  with  the  Indo-European,  but,  from  a 
theoretical  poiut  of  view  (however  the  case  may  be  histori- 
cally), Chinese,  Scythian,  and  Indo-European  are  so  many 
steps  in  one  line  and  direction  of  progress,  differing  in  degree 
but  not  in  kind  :  Semitic  speech,  on  the  other  hand,  if  i-t 
started  originally  from  the  same  or  a  like  centre,  has  reached 
an  equally  distant  point  in  a  wholly  different  direction.  The 
two  inflective  families  may  lie  upon  the  same  circumference, 
but  they  are  separated  by  the  whole  length  of  the  diameter, 
being  twice  as  far  from  one  another  as  is  either  from  the 
indifferent  middle.  A  less  fundamental  discordance,  per- 
hap;<,  but  an  equal  variety  of  structure,  belongs  to  those 
tong^ues  which  are  classed  tog^ether  as  as:2:lutinative.  Thp> 
order  includes  such  extremes  in  degree  of  agglutination  ass 
the  barren  and  almost  isolating  Manchu  or  Egyptian,  on  the 
one  hand,  and,   on  the  other,  the  exuberantly  aggregative 


8G2  MORPHOLOGICAL   CLASSIFICATIOXS  [lKCT. 

Turkisli  and  tlie  often  excessively  agglomerative  American  or 
Basque  ;  it  includes  such  differences  in  the  mode  of  agglu- 
tination as  are  presented  by  the  Scythian,  which  makes  ita 
combinations  solely  by  suffixes,  and  the  Malay  or  South- 
African,  which  form  theirs  mainly  by  prefixes.  Here,  again, 
it  may  be  made  a  question  whether  the  morphological 
relationship  of  Scythian  and  Indo-European  be  not  closer 
than  that  of  Scythian  and  Malay.  The  principle  which 
divides  the  two  former  is,  it  is  true,  reasonably  to  be  regarded 
as  of  a  higher  order  than  that  which  divides  the  two  latter ; 
yet  it  is  more  teleological  than  morphological ;  it  concerns 
rather  the  end  attained  than  the  means  of  attainment.  The 
reach  and  value,  too,  of  the  distinctively  inflective  principle, 
as  developed  in  Indo-European  language,  is,  as  I  cannot  but 
think,  not  infrequently  overrated.  In  no  small  part  of  the 
material  of  our  own  tongue,  for  example,  the  root  or  theme 
maintains  its  own  form  and  distinction  from  the  affixes,  and 
these  their  distinction  from  one  another,  not  less  completely 
than  is  the  case  in  Scythian.  All  the  derivatives  of  love,  as 
love-d,  lov-ing,  lov-er,  love-ly  ;  the  derivatives  of  true,  as  tru-ly^ 
tru-th,  tru-th-ful,  tru-tJi-ful-ly,  un-tru-th-ful-ly — these,  and  the 
host  of  formations  like  them,  are  strictly  agglutinative  in 
type :  but  we  do  not  recognize  in  them  any  inferiority  aa 
means  of  expression  to  those  derivatives  in  which  the  radical 
part  has  undergone  a  more  marked  fusion,  or  disguising 
change.  Loved  from  love  is  as  good  a  preterit  as  led  from 
lead,  or  sang  from  sing  ;  truth  from  trve  is  as  good  an  abstract 
as  length  from  long,  ov  Jilth  ivova  foul ;  nor  is  the  Latin 
Iccdo-r,  '  I  am  hurt,'  from  Icsdo,  '  I  hurt,'  inferior  to  the 
nearly  equivalent  Arabic  qutila,  from  qatala.  The  claim 
might  plausibly  enough  be  set  up  that  the  unity  which  the 
Scythian  gives  to  its  derivative  words  by  making  the  vowels 
of  their  suffixes  sympathize  with  that  of  the  principal  or 
radical  element,  is  at  least  as  valuable,  in  itself  considered,  as 
the  capacity  of  an  Indo-European  root  to  be  phonetically 
alfected  by  the  ending  that  is  attached  to  it — a  subjection  of 
the  superior  to  the  inferior  element.  Not  that  the  actual 
working-out  of  the  latter  principle  in  the  tongues  of  our 
fomily  has  not  produced  results  of  higher  value  than   the  -J 


X.]  AND    THEIR    DEFECTS.  363 

former  lias  led  to ;  but  this  may  be  owing  in  great  measure 
to  the  way  in  whicb  the  two  have  been  handled  respectively. 

The  immensely  comprehensiye  order  of  agglutinative  lan- 
guages is  sometimes  reduced  a  little  by  setting  apart  from  it 
a  polysynthetic  or  incorporative  class,  composed  of  the 
Basque  and  the  American  family.  This,  hovv-ever,  is  rather 
a  subdivision  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  triple  system  than 
the  establishment  of  a  new,  a  quadruple,  scheme  of  classifica- 
tion.       ^ 

Professor  Miiller*  seeks  to  find  a  support  and  explanation 
of  the  threefold  division  of  human  language  which  we  are 
now  considering  by  paralleling  it  with  the  threefold  con- 
dition of  human  society,  as  patriarchal,  nomadic,  and  politi- 
cal. Monosyllabic  or  "  family  languages "  are  in  place, 
according  to  him,  among  the  members  of  a  family,  whose  in- 
timacy, and  full  knowledge  of  one  another's  dispositions  and 
thoughts,  make  it  possible  for  each  to  understand  the  other 
upon  the  briefest  and  most  imperfect  hints.  Agglutinative 
or  "  nomadic  languages  "  are  required  by  the  circumstances 
of  a  wandering  and  unsettled  life  ;  the  constantly  separating 
and  reassembling  tribes  could  not  keep  up  a  mutual  intelli- 
geiice  if  they  did  not  maintain  the  integrity  of  the  radical 
elements  of  their  speech.  Inflective  or  "  state  languages  " 
are  rendered  possible  by  a  regulated  and  stable  condition  of 
society,  where  uninterrupted  intercourse  and  constant  tra- 
dition facilitate  mutual  comprehension,  notwithstanding  the 
fusion  and  integration  of  root  and  affix.  The  comparison  is 
ingenious  and  entertaining,  but  it  is  too  little  favoured  by 
either  linguistic  philosophy  or  linguistic  history  to  be  en- 
titled to  any  other  praise.  It  would  fain  introduce  into  the 
processes  of  linguistic  life  an  element  of  reflective  anticipa- 
tion, of  prevision  and  deliberate  provision,  which  is  altogether 
foreign  to  them.  That  wandering  tribes  should,  in  view  of 
their  scanty  intercourse,  their  frequent  partings  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  possible  meetings,  conclude  that  they  ought  to 
keep  their  roots  unmodified,  is  quite  inconceivable ;  nor  is  it 

*  In  his  Letter  on  the  Classification  of  the  Turanian  Languages,  p.  2] 
•eq. :  see  also  his  Lectures,  first  series. 


364  Schleicher's  system  [lect. 

easy  to  s^ee  what  purpose  the  resolution  should  serve,  if  the 
endings  are  at  the  same  time  to  be  suffered  to  vary  so 
rapidly  that  mutual  unintelligibility  is  soon  brought  about. 
In  every  uncultivated  community,  the  language  is  left  to  take 
care  of  itself;  it  becomes  what  the  exigencies  of  practical 
use  make  it,  not  what  a  forecasting  view  of  future  possibili- 
ties leads  its  speakers  to  think  that  it  might  with  advantage 
be  made  to  be  :  let  two  tribes  be  parted  from  one  another, 
and  neither  has  any  regard  to  the  welfare  of  its  fellow  in 
shaping  its  own  daily  speech.  In  point  of  fact,  moreover, 
Indo-European  languages  were  inflective,  were  "  state  lan- 
guages," long  before  the  tribes  had  formed  states  —  while 
many  of  them  were  as  nomadic  in  their  habits  as  the  wildest 
of  the  so-called  Turanian  tribes.  And  to  denominate  the 
immense  and  highly-organized  Chinese  empire  a  mere  exag- 
gerated family,  and  account  for  the  peculiarities  of  its  speech 
by  reference  to  the  conditions  of  a  family,  is  fanciful  in  the 
extreme.  No  nomenclature  founded  on  such  unsubstantial 
considerations  has  a  good  claim  to  the  acceptance  of  lin- 
guistic scholars ;  and  the  one  in  question  has,  it  is  believed, 
won  no  general  currency. 

A  very  noteworthy  attempt  has  been  made  within  a  short 
time  by  Professor  Schleicher,  of  Jena^*  to  give  greater  ful- 
ness and  precision  to  the  morphological  classification  and 
description  of  language,  by  a  more  thorough  analysis,  and  a 
kind  of  algebraic  notation,  of  morphological  characteristics. 
A  pure  root,  used  as  a  word  without  variation  of  form  or 
addition  of  formative  elements,  he  denotes  by  a  capital  letter, 
as  ^ ;  a  connected  sentence  expressed  by  a  series  of  such 
elements,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  in  Chinese,  he  would  re- 
present hj  A  B  C,  and  so  on.  Such  a  sentence  we  may 
rudely  illustrate  by  an  English  phrase  like  ^fish  lihe  tcafrr, 
in  which  each  word  is  a  simple  root  or  theme,  without  for- 
mal designation  of  relations. t     A  root  which,  while  retain- 

*  Soo  liis  ])aper,  "  Contribiitioji  to  tlm  ^forpliolog^y  of  Lanp^ungc,"  in  tlio 
"Memoirs  of  tlu>  Acadeiny  of  St.  IV-tcrsburjr,  vol.  i.,  So.  7  (1859)  ;  also,  the 
Introduction  to  his  work,  llie  "German  Liin^iia«(e"  (Stuttgart,  1860), p.  11  scq, 

t  Of  cour-.u,  tlic  parallel  is  to  be   rri;artled  as  only  an  impt'rfoct  one: 
thou<j;h  these  three  words  are  to  our  apprehension  primitives,  they  are  fai 


X.]  OF    MORPHOLOGICAL   NOTATION.  365 

ing  its  substantial  independence,  is  so  modified  in  signification 
and  restricted  in  application  as  to  form  an  auxiliary  or  ad- 
junct to  another  root  (^Yhichwas  shown  in  the  la?st  lecture  to  be 
a  frequent  phenomenon  in  the  isolating  languages),  is  marked 
bj  an  accented  letter,  as  A  :  thus,  in  the  English,  sJiall  like 
would  be  represented  by  A'  -^  A  ;  shall  have  put,  hj  A'  -\-  £' 
-|-  A  :  the  interposed  sign  of  addition  indicating  the  close- 
ness of  relation  between  the  elements.  The  position  of  tbe 
accented  letters  in  the  formula  would  point  out  whether  the 
auxiliaries  are  placed  after  the  main  word,  as  in  Burmese,  or 
before  it,  as  in  Siamese,  or  on  either  or  both,  sides^  as  some- 
times in  Chinese. 

If,  now,  the  formative  element  is  combined  with  tbe  radical 
into  a  single  word,  it  is  indicated  by  a  small  letter,  which  is 
put  before  or  after  the  capital  which  stands  for  the  root,  ac- 
cording to  the  actual  position  of  the  elements  in  combination. 
Thus,  if  we  represent  true  by  A,  untrue  would  be  a  A ;  truly 
or  truth  would  be  Aa  ;  untruly,  a  Ah;  untruthfully ,  a  Abed ;  and 
80  on.  Expressions  of  this  kind  belong  to  the  agglutinative 
type  of  structure ;  and  they  are,  it  is  plain,  capable  of  very 
considerable  variation,  so  as  to  be  made  to  denote  the 
various  kinds  and  degrees  of  agglutination.  It  is  possible, 
for  example,  to  distinguisb  the  endings  of  inflection  from 
those  of  derivation,  or  elements  of  pronominal  from  those  of 
predicative  origin,  by  the  use  of  a  difierent  series  of  letters 
(as  the  Grreek)  to  indicate  one  of  the  classes :  thus,  truths 
might  be  Aaa,  but  truthful  Aah  ;  halalarumclan,  in  Turkish 
(see  above,  p.  318),  might  be  Aa^y,  but  sevishdirilememek, 
Aabcdef  An  adroit  use  of  sucb  means  of  distinction  might 
enable  one  even  to  set  forth  with  sufficient  clearness  the 
peculiarities  and  intricacies  of  polysyntheti(  tongues. 

from  being  ultimate  roots ;  they  all  either  contain  formative  elements  added 
to  such  a  root,  or  have  possessed  and  lost  them ;  each  is,  to  be  sure,  employ- 
able as  nnun,  adjective,  or  verb,  without  change  of  form,  yet  not,  like  Chinese 
roots,  in  virtue  of  an  original  indefiniteness  of  meaning,  but  as  one  distinct 
part  of  speech  is  in  our  usage  convertible  directly  into  others  ;  nor  can  it  be 
said  that,  even  as  they  stand,  they  are  altogether  formless;  for  each  is  de- 
fined in  certain  relations  by  the  absence  of  formative  elements  which  it  would 
otherwise  exhibit:  toater  is  shown  to  be  singxilar  by  lacking  an  s,Jish  and 
Hke  to  be  plural  by  the  absence  of  s  from  like. 


366  Schleicher's  morphological  notation.       [lect. 

Again,  an  inflective  change  of  the  root  itself  for  the  ex- 
pression of  grammatical  relations  is  denotable  by  exponents 
attached  to  the  root-symbol.  Thus,  man  being  A^  7neti  would 
be  A*^ ;  men's,  A'*a;  sang,  swig,  song,  from  sing,  would  be  de- 
noted by  A^,  A^,  -4" ;  spoken,  from  speak,  would  be  A'^a ;  its 
German  counterpart,  gesprochen,  aA^b.  And  in  the  Semitic 
tongues,  where  the  root  never  appears  without  a  vocalization 
which  is  formal  and  significant,  the  constant  radical  emblem 
would  be  A"* 

Compounds,  finally,  would  be  expressed  in  this  method  by 
putting  side  by  side  the  symbols  expressive  of  their  separate 
members,  the  capital  letters  w^ith  their  modifications  and  ad- 
juncts. House-top  would  be  AB ;  songwriter,  A'^JBa ;  and 
so  on. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  explain  with  any  more  of  detail 
Professor  Schleicher's  system  of  morphological  notation,  or 
to  spend  many  words  in  pointing  out  its  convenience  and 
value.  It  may  evidently  be  made  a  means  of  apprehending 
distinctly,  and  setting  forth  clearly,  the  main  structural  fea- 
tures of  any  language.  It  will  not,  indeed,  enable  us  to  put 
in  a  brief  and  compact  form  of  statement  the  whole  morpho- 
logical character  of  every  spoken  tongue.  Most  tongues 
admit  no  small  variety  of  formations  ;  each  must  be  judged 
by  its  prevailing  modes  of  formation,  by  the  average  of  high- 
est and  lowest  modes,  by  their  respective  frequency  of 
application,  and  the  purposes  they  are  made  to  serve.  It 
does  not  help  us  to  a  simple  and  facile  scale  and  classification 
of  all  the  dialects  of  mankind ;  but  this  is  to  be  imputed  to 

*  Professor  Schleicher,  indeed,  adopts  this  emblem  as  that  of  the  Indo- 
European  root  also,  since  he  holds  the  view,  brietly  stated  and  controverted 
above  (in  the  ei;,^hth  lecture,  p.  293),  that  the  radicals  of  our  family  were 
oriijjiiuilly  liable  to  a  rci^ular  variation,  of  synib 'lie  sijjnificance,  for  purposes 
of  grammatical  expression.  1  rejrard  it,  on  the  contrary,  as  the  weak  point  in 
bis  system,  as  applied  by  himself,  that  it  does  not  distiTii^iiish  an  internal 
flection  like  the  Semitic  -which,  so  far  as  we  can  trace  its  history,  is  ulti- 
mate and  orij^inal,  and  wliich  continues  in  full  force,  in  old  material  and  in 
new  formations.  throuLrh  tlic  whole  history  of  the  lanirua}?cs — from  one  like 
the  Indo- European,  wnich  is  rather  secondary  and  accidental,  constantly 
arisin;^^  in  new  cases  under  the  intluencc  of  phonetic  circuinstauces,  but  never 
winiiinj^  a  pervadin<^  force,  and  in  many  members  of  tiie  family  hardly  taking 
on  anywhere  a  regular  form  and  ottice,  aa  significant  of  relations. 


T,"]  TESTS    OF    LINGUISTIC    RANK.  367 

it  as  a  merit,  not  as  a  fault :  it  tlius  fairly  represents  the 
exceeding  variety  of  languages,  the  complexity  of  the  cha- 
racteristics which  distinguish  them,  and  their  incapacity  of 
separation  into  a  few  sharply  defined  classes, 

^o  single  trait  or  class  of  traits,  however  fundamental 
may  be  its  importance,  can  be  admitted  as  a  definite  criterion 
by  Avhich  the  character  of  a  language  shall  be  judged,  and  its 
rank  determined.  AVe  saw  reason  above  to  challenge  the 
absolute  superiority  of  the  inflective  principle,  strongly  as  it 
may  indicate  a  valuable  tendency  in  language-making.  Cer- 
tainly it  is  wholly  conceivable  that  some  language  of  the 
agglutinative  class  may  decidedly  surpass  in  strength  and 
suppleness,  in  adaptedness  to  its  use  as  the  instrument  and 
aid  of  thought,  some  other  language  or  languages  of  the  in- 
flective class.  Not  morphological  character  alone  is  to  be 
taken  account  of  ;  for  not  every  race  of  equal  mental  endow- 
ment has  originated  and  shaped  a  language,  any  more  than 
an  art,  of  equivalent  formal  merit.  Some  one  needed  item 
of  capacity  was  wanting,  and  the  product  remains  unartistic  ; 
or  the  w^ork  of  the  earliest  period,  which  has  determined  the 
grand  features  of  the  whole  after-development,  was  un- 
adroitly  performed  ;  the  first  generations  left  to  their  suc- 
cessors a  body  of  constraining  usages  and  misguiding 
analogies,  the  influence  of  which  is  not  to  be  shaken  off";  and 
the  mental  power  of  the  race  is  shown  by  the  skill  and  force 
with  which  it  wields  an  imperfect  instrument.  Many  a 
tongue  thus  stands  higher,  or  lower,  in  virtue  of  the  sum  of 
its  qualities,  than  its  morphological  character  would  naturally 
indicate.  The  Chinese  is  one  of  the  most  striking  instances 
of  such  a  discordance  ;  though  so  nearly  forraleys,  in  a  mor- 
phological sense,  it  is  nevertheless  placed  by  AYilhehn  von 
Humboldt  and  Steinthal  *  in  their  higher  class  of  "  form 
languages,"  along  with  the  Indo-European  and  Semitic,  as 
being  a  not  unsuitable  incorporation  of  clear  logical  thought  ; 
as,  though  not  distinctly  indicating  relations  and  categories, 
yet  not  cumbering  their  conception,  their  mental  appre- 
hension, by  material  adjuncts  which  weaken  and  confuse  the 
thought. 

•  See  the  latter's  Charakteristik  etc.,  pp.  70,  327. 


368  CLASSIFICATION    OF    LANGUAGES  [LKCT, 

But  further,  apart  from  this  whole  matter  of  morphologi- 
cal form,  of  grammatical  structure,  of  the  indication,  expressed 
or  implied,  of  relations,  another  department  contributes 
essentially  to  our  estimate  of  the  value  of  a  language : 
namely,  its  material  content,  or  what  is  signified  by  its 
words.  The  universe,  with  all  its  objects  and  their  qualities, 
is  put  before  the  language-makers  to  be  comprehended  and 
expressed,  and  the  different  races,  and  tribes,  and  communi- 
ties, have  solved  the  problem  after  a  very  different  fashion. 
Names- giving  implies  not  merely  the  distinction  of  individual 
things,  but,  no  less,  classification  and  analysis,  in  every  kind, 
and  of  every  degree  of  subtlety.  There  are  conce.ptions, 
and  classes  of  conceptions,  of  so  obvious  and  practical  cha- 
racter, that  their  designations  are  to  be  found  in  every  lan- 
guage that  exists  or  ever  has  existed :  there  are  hosts  of 
others  which  one  community,  or  many,  or  the  most,  have 
never  reached.  Does  a  given  tongue  show  that  the  race 
which  speaks  it  has  devoted  its  exclusive  attention  to  the 
more  trivial  matters  in  the  world  without  and  within  us,  or 
has  it  apprehended  higher  things  ?  Has  it,  for  example,  so 
studied  and  noted  the  aspects  of  nature  that  it  can  describe 
them  in  terms  of  picturesque  power  ?  Has  it  distinguished 
with  intellectual  acuteness  and  spiritual  insight  the  powers 
and  operations  of  our  internal  nature,  our  mind  and  soul,  so 
that  it  can  discuss  psychological  questions  with  significance 
and  precision?  Any  dialect,  isolating  or  inflective,  mono- 
syllabic or  polysynthetic,  may  be  raised  or  lowered  in  the 
scale  of  languages  by  the  characteristics  which  such  inquiries 
bring  to  light.  In  these,  too,  there  is  the  widest  diversity, 
depending  on  original  capacity,  on  acquired  information  and 
civilization,  and  on  variety  of  external  «ircumstance  and  con- 
dition— a  diversity  among  different  branches  of  the  same 
race,  different  periods  of  the  same  history,  and,  where  culture 
and  education  introduce  their  separating  influences,  between 
different  classes  of  the  same  community.  Our  earliest 
inquiries  (in  the  first  three  lectures)  into  the  processes  of 
linguistic  growth  showed  us  that  the  changes  which  bruig 
about  this  diversity,  the  accretions  to  the  vocabulary  of  a 
tongue,  the  deepening  of  the  meaning  of  its  words,  are  the 


J.J  BY  THEIR  COMPARATIVE  VALUE.  309 

easiest  of  all  to  make,  the  most  pervading  and  irrepressible 
ill  their  action,  throughout  every  period  of  its  existence 
Here,  then,  more  than  in  any  other  department,  it  is  practi- 
cable for  later  generations  to  amend  and  complete  the  work 
of  earlier  ;  and  yet,  such  is  the  power  of  linguistic  habit 
that,  even  here,  original  infelicities  sometimes  adhere  to  a 
language  during  its  whole  development. 

To  make  out  a  satisfactory  scheme  of  arrangement  for  all 
human  tongues  upon  the  ground  of  their  comparative  value, 
accordini^ly,  will  be  a  task  of  extreme  difficulty,  and  one  of 
the  last  results  reached  by  linguisti  *  science  It  will  require 
a  degree  of  penetration  into  the  inmost  secrets  of  structure 
and  usage,  an  acuteness  of  perception  and  freedom  from 
prejudice  in  estimating  merits  of  diverse  character,  and  a 
breadth  and  reach  of  learning,  which  will  be  found  attainable 
only  by  a  few,  master-minds.  Grreat  play  is  here  afforded 
for  subjective  views,  for  inherited  prepossessions,  for  sway  of 
mental  habits.  Who  of  us  can  be  trusted  fairly  to  compare 
the  advantages  of  his  own  and  of  any  other  language  ? 

There  can  be  no  question  that,  of  all  the  modes  of  classifi- 
cation with  which  linguistic  scholars  have  had  to  do,  the  one 
of  first  and  most  fundamental  importance  is  the  genetical,  or 
that  which  groups  together,  and  holds  apart  from  others, 
languages  giving  evidence  of  derivation  from  the  same 
original.  It  underlies  and  furnishes  the  foundation  of  all  the 
remaininor  modes.  There  can  be  no  tie  between  anv  two 
dialects  so  strong  as  that  of  a  common  descent.  Every 
great  family  has  a  structural  character  of  its  own,  whereby, 
whatever  may  be  the  varying  development  of  its  members, 
it  is  made  a  unit,  and  more  or  less  strikingly  distinguished 
from  the  rest.  Whatever  other  criterion  we  may  apply  is 
dnaloofous  in  its  character  and  bearinofs  with  the  distinction 
of  apetalous,  monopetalous,  and  polypetalous,  or  of  monogy- 
nous,  digynous,  etc.,  or  of  exogenous  and  endogenous,  or  of 
pheuogamous  and  cryptogamous,  in  the  science  of  botany — 
all  of  them  possessing  real  importance  in  different  degrees, 
variouslv  crossinor  one  another,  and  markinsr  out  certain 
general  divisions ;  while  the  arrangement  of  linguistic 
families  corresponds  with  the  division  of  plants  into  natural 

24 


370  LINGUISTIC    AND    FHl'SICAL  [lECT. 

orders,  foanded  upon  a  consideration  of  the  whole  comj  licate 
structure  of  the  things  chis.sitlcd,  contemplating  the  sum  o{ 
their  characteristic  qualities  ;  fixing,  therefore,  their  position 
ill  the  vast  kingdom  of  nature  of  which  they  are  members,  and 
determining  the  names  by  which  they  shall  be  called.  The 
genetical  classification  is  the  ultimate  historical  fact  which 
the  historical  method  of  linguistic  study  directly  aims  at 
establishing.  AV^ith  its  establishment  are  bound  up  those 
more  general  historical  results,  for  the  ethnological  history 
of  mankind,  which  form  so  conspicuous  a  part  of  the  interest 
of  our  science. 

To  subjects  connected  with  this  department  of  interest, 
the  bearing  of  linguistic  science  on  ethnology,  we  have  next 
to  turn  our  attention,  occupying  with  them  the  remainder  of 
the  present  lecture. 

One  of  the  first  considerations  which  will  be  apt  to  strike 
the  notice  of  any  one  who  reviews  our  classification  of  human 
races  according  to  the  relationship  of  their  languages,  is  its 
non-agreement  with  the  current  divisions  based  on  physical 
characteristics.  The, physicists,  indeed,  are  far  from  having 
yet  arrived  at  accordance  in  their  own  schemes  of  classifiea- 
tion,  and  the  utter  insufficiency  of  that  old  familiar  distinc- 
tion of  Caucasian,  Mongol,  Malay,  African,  and  American, 
established  by  Blumenbach,  and  probably  learned  by  most  of 
us  at  school,  is  now  fully  recognized.  But  it  does  not  seem 
practicable  to  lay  down  any  system  of  physical  races  which 
shall  agree  with  any  possible  scheme  of  linguistic  races. 
Indo-European,  Semitic,  Scythian,  an  I  Caucasian  tongues 
are  spoken  by  men  whom  the  naturalist  would  not  separate 
from  one  another  as  of  widely  diverse  stock  ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  Scythian  dialects  of  close  and  indubitable  rela- 
tionship are  in  the  mouths  of  peoples  who  differ  as  widely  in 
form  and  feature  as  Hungarians  and  Lapps  ;  while  not  less 
discordance  of  physical  type  is  to  be  found  among  the 
speakers  of  various  dialects  belonging  to  more  than  one  of 
the  other  j^reat  liniruistic  families. 

Such  ficts  as  these  call  up  the  question,  as  one  of  high 
practical  consequence,  respecting  the  comparative  value  of 
linguistic   and   of  physical  evidence   of  race,  and  how  their 


X.!  EVIDENCE    OF    RACE.  o/l 

tseeming  discrepancy  is  to  be  reconciled.  Some  metliod  of 
bringing  about  a  reconciliation  between  them  must  evidently 
be  sought  and  found.  For  neither  linguistic  nor  physical 
ethnology  is  a  science  of  classification  merely  ;  both  claim  to 
be  historical  also.  Both  are  working  toward  the  same  end : 
rxamely,  a  tracing  out  of  the  actual  connection  and  gene- 
alogical history  of  human  races ;  and,  though  each  must 
follow  its  own  methods,  without  undue  interference  from 
without,  they  cannot  labour  independently,  careless  each  of 
the  other's  results.  To  point  out  the  mode  of  reconciliation, 
to  remove  the  difBculties  which  lie  in  the  way  of  harmonious 
agreement  between  the  two  departments  of  ethnological 
science,  I  shall  not  here  make  the  least  pretence  ;  such  a 
result  can  be  attained  only  when  the  principles  and  conclu- 
sions  of  botli  are  advanced  and  perfected  far  beyond  their 
present  point.'  All  that  we  can  attempt  to  do  is  to  notice 
certain  general  considerations  bearing  upon  the  subject,  and 
requiring  not  to  be  lost  from  sight  by  either  party  ;  and 
especially,  to  point  out  the  limitations  and  imperfections  of 
both  physical  and  linguistic  evidence,  and  how  necessary  it 
is  that  each  should  modestly  solicit  and  frankly  acknowledge 
the  aid  of  the  other. 

How  language  proves  anything  concerning  race,  and  what 
it  does  and  does  not  prove,  was  brought  clearly  to  light  in 
the  course  of  our  earliest  inquiries  into  its  nature  and 
history.  What  we  then  learned  respecting  the  mode  of 
acquisition  and  transmission  of  each  man's,  and  each  commu- 
nity's, "  native  tongue  "  was  suflBcient  to  show  us  the  total 
error  of  two  somewhat  different,  and  yet  fundamentally 
accordant,  views  of  language,  which  have  been  put  forth  and 
defended  by  certain  authorities — the  one,  that  speech  is  to 
man  what  his  song  is  to  the  bird,  what  their  roar,  growl, 
bellow  are  to  lions,  bears,  oxen ;  and  that  resemblances  of 
dialect  therefore  no  more  indicate  actual  genetic  connection 
among  different  tribes  of  men  than  resemblances  of  uttered 
tone  indicate  the  common  descent  of  various  species  of 
thrushes,  or  of  bears,  inhabiting  different  parts  of  the  world  ? 
the  other,  that  language  is  the  immediate  and  necessary  pro- 
duct of  physical  organization,  and  varies  as  this  varies  •  that 

24  • 


372  VALUE  OF  la::guage  [lect. 

au  Engli.shnian,  a  Frenchman,  and  a  Chinaman  talli  unlike 
one  another  because  their  brains  and  organs  of  artiv  ulation 
are  unlike ;  and  that  all  Englishmen  talk  alike,  as  do  all 
Frenchmen,  or  all  Chinamen,  because,  in  co!;sequenee  of 
their  living  amid  similar  physical  conditions,  and  their  in- 
heritance of  a  common  race-type,  their  nervous  and  muscular 
systems  minutely  correspond.  And  doctrines  akin  with 
these  are  more  or  less  distinctly  and  consciously  implied  in 
the  views  of  those  who  hold  that  language  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  free-agency  of  men,  and  can  be  neither  made 
nor  changed  by  human  effort.  All  who  think  thus  virtually 
deny  the  existence  of  such  a  thing  as  linguistic  science,  or 
raduce  it  to  the  position  of  a  subordinate  branch  of  physi- 
ology :  speech  becomes  a  purely  physical  characteristic,  one 
among  the  many  which  by  their  common  presence  make  up 
man,  and  by  their  differences  distinguish .  the  different 
varieties  of  men  ;  and  it  would  be  for  the  physicist  to  deter- 
mine, here,  as  in  the  case  of  other  physical  characteristics, 
how  far  its  joint  possession  indicated  specific  unity,  or  how 
far  its  diversities  of  kind  indicated  specific  variety.  All 
these  false  theories  are  brushed  away  at  once  by  our  recogni- 
tion of  the  fact  that  we  do  not  produce  our  speech  from 
within,  but  acquire  it  from  without  ourselves ;  that  we 
neither  make  nor  inherit  the  words  we  use,  whether  of  our 
native  tou2:ue  or  of  any  other,  but  learn  them  from  our 
instructors. 

But  from  this  it  also  follows  that  no  individual's  speech 
directly  and  necessarily  marks  his  descent ;  it  only  shows  in 
what  community  he  grew  up.  Language  is  no  infallible 
sign  of  race,  but  only  its  probable  indication,  and  an  indica- 
tion of  which  the  probability  is  exposed  to  very  serious  draw- 
backs. For  it  is  evident  that  those  who  taught  us  to  speak, 
of  whose  means  of  expression  we  learned  to  avail  ourselves, 
need  not  have  been  of  our  own  kith  and  kin.  Not  only 
may  individuals,  families,  groups  of  families,  of  almost  every 
race  on  earth,  be,  as  at  present  in  America,  turned  into  and 
absorbed  by  one  great  community,  and  made  to  adopt  its 
speech,  but  a  strange  tongue  maybe  learned  by  whole  tribes 
and  nations  of  those   who,  like  our   negroes,  are  brought 


X.]  AS    ETIDENCE    OP    RACE.  373 

away  frcm  their  native  homes,  or,  like  the  Irish,  have  lived 
long  under  a  foreign  yoke,  or,  like  the  Celts.of  ancient  G-aul 
and  Spain,  have  received  laws,  civilization,  and  religion  from 
another  and  a  superior  race.  Languages  unnumbered  and 
innumerable  have  disappeared  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth 
since  the  beginning  of  human  history  ;  but  only  in  part  by 
reason  of  the  utter  annihilation  of  the  individuals  who  had 
spoken  them  ;  more  often,  doubtless,  by  their  dispersion,  and 
incorporation  with  other  communities,  of  other  speech. 
Everywhere,  too,  where  the  confines  of  different  forms  of 
speech  meet,  there  goes  on  more  or  less  of  mixture  between 
them,  or  of  eifacement  of  the  one  bv  the  other.  Yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  mixture  of  language  is  not  necessary  proof  of 
mixture  of  race.  We  can  trace  the  genesis  of  a  very  large 
part  of  our  own  vocabulary  to  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  but 
hardly  the  faintest  appreciable  portion  of  our  ancestry  is 
Roman.  We  obtained  our  Latin  words  in  the  most  strangely 
roundabout  way  :  they  were  brought  us  by  certain  Germanic 
adventurers,  the  Xormans,  who  had  learned  them  from  a 
mixed  people,  the  French,  chiefly  of  Celtic  blood  ;  and  these, 
again,  had  derived  them  from  another  heterogeneous  com- 
pound of  Italican  races,  among  whom  the  Latin  tribe  was 
numerically  but  a  feeble  element. 

Of  such  nature  are  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  our  infer- 
ring the  race-connections  of  an  individual  or  of  a  community 
with  certainty  from  the  relations  of  the  language  which 
either  speaks.  They  are  of  undeniable  force  and  importance, 
and  must  be  borne  constantly  in  mind  by  every  one  who  is 
pursuing  investigations,  and  laying  down  conclusions^  in  lin- 
guistic ethnology.  They  drive  him  to  seek  after  some  other 
concurrent  test  of  descent,  which  shall  serve  to  check  and 
control  his  own  results ;  and  they  make  him  court  and 
welcome  the  aid  of  the  physicist,  as  well  as  of  the  archaeolo- 
gist and  the  historian. 

But,  noti\ith standing  this,  their  consequence,  and  their 
power  to  invalidate  linguistic  evidence,  must  not  be  over- 
rated. They  concern,  after  all,  what  in  the  grand  simi  of 
human  history  are  the  exceptions  to  a  general  rule.  It  still 
remains  true  that,  upon  the  whole,  language  is  a  tolerably 


874  MIXTURE    AND  [lECTL 

sure  ii  dication  of  race.  Since  the  dawn  of  time,  those 
among  whom  ii^dividuals  were  born,  of  whom  they  learned 
how  to  express  their  mental  acts,  have  been  usually  of  their 
own  blood.  Nor  do  these  difficulties  place  linguistic  evidence 
at  any  marked  disadvantage  as  compared  with  physical. 
They  are,  to  no  small  extent,  merely  .the  effect,  on  the  side  of 
language,  of  the  grand  fact  Avhich  comes  in  constantly  to 
interfere  with  ethnological  investigations  of  every  kind : 
namelv,  that  human  races  do  not  maintain  themselves  in 
purity,  that  men  of  different  descent  are  all  the  time  min- 
gling, mixing  their  blood,  and  crossing  all  their  race-charac- 
teristics. Fusion  and  replacement  of  languages  are  impossi- 
ble, except  when  men  of  different  native  speech  are  brought 
together  as  members  of  the  same  community,  so  that  there 
takes  place  more  or  less  of  an  accompanying  fusion  of  races 
also  ;  and  then  the  resulting  language  stands  at  least  a 
chance  of  being  a  more  faithful  and  intelligible  witness  of 
the  mixture  than  the  resulting  physical  type.  That  the 
modern  French  people,  for  example,  is  made  up  of  a  congeries 
of  Celtic,  Germanic,  and  Italican  elements  is  to  a  certain 
extent — although  only  the  aid  of  recorded  history  enables  us 
fully  to  interpret  the  evidences — testified  by  the  consider- 
able body  of  Celtic  and  Germanic  words  mixed  with  the 
Latin  elements  of  the  French  language ;  but  no  physicist 
could  ever  have  derived  the  same  conclusion  from  a  study  of 
the  French  type  of  structure.  The  physicists  claim  that  there 
may  be  a  considerable  infusion  of  the  blood  of  one  race  into 
that  of  another,  without  perceptible  modification  of  the 
hitter's  race-type;  the  intruded  element,  if  not  continuously 
supplied  afresh,  is  ovcrwludnied  and  assimilated  by  the  other 
and  j)red()uiinant  one,  and  disappears  :  that  is  to  say,  as  we 
may  interpret  the  claim,  its  peculiarities  are  so  diluted  by 
constant  remixture  that  they  become  at  last  inappreciable. 
In  any  such  case,  then,  traces  discoverable  in  the  language 
mav  ])oint  out  what  there  is  no  other  means  of  ascertaining. 
It  is  true  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the  spread  and  propaga- 
tion of  a  language  may  greatly  exceed  that  of  the  race  to 
w huh  it  originally  belonged,  and  that  the  weaker  numerical 
element  in   a  composite  community  may  be  the  one  whoao 


X.J  SPREAD    OF   LANGUAGES.  o75 

dialect  becomes  the  conimoD  tongue  of  all.  Tims  the  l.atin 
swept  away  the  primitive  tongues  of  a  great  part  of  southern 
and  central  Europe,  and  has  become  mingled  with  the  speech 
of  all  civilized  nations,  in  the  Old  world  and  the  New.  But 
we  are  not  rashly  to  infer  that  such  things  have  happened 
over  and  over  again  in  the  history  of  the  world.  AVe  have 
rather  to  inquire  what  influences  make  possible  a  career  like 
that  of  the  Latin,  what  lends  the  predominant  and  assimilat- 
ing force  to  a  single  element  where  many  are  combined. 
And,  as  was  pointed  out  in  the  fourth  lecture,  we  shall  find 
that  only  superior  culture  and  the  possession  of  a  literature 
can  give  to  any  tongue  such  great  extensibility.  The  Per- 
sians, the  Mongols,  have  at  one  period  and  another  exercised 
sway  over  an  empire  not  less  extensive  than  the  Koman,  but 
their  languages  were  never  spread  far  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  peoples  to  Avhich  they  properly  belonged.  The  German 
tribes,  too,  conquered  in  succession  nearly  every  kingdom  of 
Europe ;  but  it  was  only  in  order  to  lose  themselves  and 
their  dialects  together,  almost  undiscoverably,  in  the  commu- 
nities and  languages  into  which  they  entered.  Nay,  even 
the  wide-spread  Grreek  colonies,  with  the  superiority  of 
Greek  culture  to  aid  them,  were  not  able  to  make  the  Greek 
the  ton2:ue  of  many  nations.  There  was  an  onranizing:  and 
assimilating  force  in  Roman  dominion  which  the  world  has 
nowhere  else  seen  equalled.  And  if  the  career  of  the  Arabic 
furnishes  something  like  a  parallel  to  that  of  the  Latin,  it  is 
due,  not  to  the  sword  of  Islam,  but  to  the  book,  and  to  the 
doctrine  and  polity  which  the  book  enjoined  and  the  sword 
imposed.  Since,  then,  such  moyements  must  be  connected 
Avith  culture  and  literature,  they  cannot  but  leave  their 
record  in  written  history,  and  find  there  their  explanation. 
Nor  could  there  occur  in  every  region  or  in  every  period 
such  an  inpouring  and  assimilation  of  nationalities  as  is  now 
going  on  among  us  ;  it  is  only  possible  under  the  conditions 
of  civilized  life  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  the  historica? 
conditions  which  have  been  created  here.  The  wild  and 
uncultivated  races  of  the  earth  generally  are  simply  maintain- 
ing themselves  by  growth  from  generation  to  generation, 
taking  in  no  immigrants,  sending  out  no  emigrants.   Cultui*e 


376  TALUE    OP   LANGUAGE  [LKCT. 

makes  an  astonishing  difterence  in  the  circumstances  and 
fates  of  those  portions  of  mankind  over  which  its  influence 
is  extended,  and  it  would  be  tlie  height  of  folly  to  transfer 
to  barbarous  races  and  uncivilized  periods  of  human  history 
analogies  and  conclusions  drawn  from  the  history  of  culti- 
vated nations  and  tongues.  The  farther  we  go  back  into  the 
night  of  the  past,  the  greater  is  the  probability  that  the 
limits  of  race  and  speech  approximately  coincide,  and  that 
mixture  of  either  is  accompanied  by  that  of  the  other. 

And  if,  in  certain  circumstances,  a  race  may  change  its 
tongue,  while  yet  retaining  in  its  physical  structure  evidence 
of  its  descent,  a  race  may  also  undergo  a  modification  of 
physical  type,  and  still  offer  in  its  speech  plain  indications 
of  its  real  kindred.  If  the  talk  of  our  coloured  citizens  does 
not  show  that  they  were  brought  from  Africa,  neither  do  the 
shape  and  bearing  of  the  Magyars  show  that  they  came  from 
beyond  the  Ural,  nor  those  of  the  Osrnanli  Turks  that  their 
cousins  are  the  nomads  of  the  inhospitable  plateau  of  central 
Asia.  This  is  the  grand  drawback  to  the  cogency  of  physical 
evidence  of  race,  and  it  fully  counterbalances  those  which 
affect  the  cogency  of  linguistic  evidence,  rendering  the  aid 
of  the  linguist  as  necessary  to  the  physical  ethnologist  as  is 
the  latter's  to  the  linguistic  ethnologist.  Physical  science 
is  as  yet  far  from  having  determined  the  kind,  the  rate,  and 
the  amount  of  modification  which  external  conditions,  as  cli- 
mate and  mode  of  life,  can  introduce  into  a  race-type  ;  but 
that,  within  certain  undefined  limits,  their  influence  is  very 
powerful,  is  fully  acknowledged.  There  is,  to  be  sure,  a 
party  among  zoologists  and  ethnologists  who  insist  much 
upon  the  dogma  of  "  fixity  of  type,"  and  assert  tliat  all  hu- 
man races  are  original ;  but  the  general  tendency  of  scien- 
tific opinion  is  in  the  other  direction,  toNvard  the  fuller 
admission  of  variability  of  sj^ecies.  The  first  naturalists  are 
still,  and  more  than  ever,  willing  to  admit  that  all  the  differ- 
ences now  existing  among  human  races  may  be  the  effects 
of  variation  from  a  single  typo,  and  that  it  is  at  least  not 
necessary  to  resort  to  the  hypothesis  of  different  origins  in 
order  to  explain  them.  In  the  fact  that  Egyptian  monu- 
Eicnts  of  more  than  tliree  thousand  years'  antiquity  show  MM 


X.]  AS    EVIDENCE    OF    RACE.  8t7 

human  \arieties,  and  canine  varieties,  bearing  the  same  cli.i» 
racteri.stics  as  at  the  present  day,  there  is  nothing  to  disturb 
this  conclusion  ;  for,  on  the  one  baud,  a  period  of  three 
thousand  years  is  coming  to  be  regarded  as  not  including  a 
very  large  part  of  man's  existence  on  the  eartb  ;  and,  on  tho 
other  hand,  such  a  fact  only  proves  the  persistency  whicb  a 
type  may  possess  when  fully  developed,  and  is  of  very  doubt- 
ful avail  to  show  the  originality  of  the  type.  Something 
analogous  is  to  be  seen  in  language.  The  speech  of  our  rudo 
Germanic  ancestors  of  the  same  remote  period,  had  we  au- 
thentic record  of  it,  would  beyond  question  be  found  to  have 
possessed  already  a  general  character  clearly  identifying  it 
with  Grermanic  tongues  still  existing,  and  sharply  sundering 
it  from  Grreek,  from  Slavonic,  from  Celtic,  and  all  the  other 
Indo-European  branches ;  yet  we  do  not  doubt  that  the 
Grermanic  type  of  speech  is  a  derived,  a  secondary  one.  In 
settling  all  these  controverted  points,  in  distinguishing  be- 
tween original  diversity  and  subsequent  variation,  in  estab- 
lishing a  test  and  scale  for  tlie  possibilities  and  the  rate  of 
physical  change,  the  physical  ethnologist  will  need  all  the 
assistance  which  historical  investigations  of  every  kind  can 
furnish  him  ;  and  the  greater  part  mu^t  come  to  him  from 
the  student  of  language. 

As  the  Indo-European  family  of  language  is  that  o:ie  of 
which  the  unity,  accompanying  a  not  inconsiderable  variety 
of  physical  type  in  the  peoples  who  speak  its  dialects, 
is  most  firndy  established,  and  as  therefore  it  may  natur- 
ally be  reg.irded  as  furnishing  a  prominent  illustratio  i  of 
the  bearing  of  linguistic  conditions  on  physical  inquiries 
into  the  history  of  man,  it  is  perhaps  worth  our  while  to 
refer  to  a  theory  respecting  Indo-European  speech  which 
has  found  of  late  a  few  supporters  of  some  note  and  au- 
thority, and  which,  if  accepted,  would  altogether  deprive  it 
of  ethnological  value.  The  assertion,  namely,  is  put  forth, 
that  the  apparent  unity  of  the  languages  of  this  family  is  not 
due  to  a  prevailing  identity  of  descent  iu  the  nations  to 
which  they  belong,  but  to  the  influence  of  some  single  tribe, 
whose  siiperior  character,  capacity,  and  prowess  enabled  it 
to  impose  its  linguistic  usages  on  distant  and  diverse  racea 


378  INDO-EUROPEAN  [lBCT. 

By  some  it  is  even  assumed  that  the  correspondences  of 
\vorcls  and  forms  exhibited  by  the  so-called  ludo-Eiiropeau 
tongues  are  not  fundamental  and  pervading,  but  superficial, 
consisting  in  scattered  particulars  only,  in  such  designations 
of  objects  and  conceptions  as  one  race  might  naturally  make 
over  into  the  keeping  of  another,  along  with  a  knowledge  of 
the  things  designated.  This  assumption,  however,  tiie  ex- 
positions and  reasonings  of  our  fifcli  and  seventh  lectures 
will  have  shown  to  be  wholly  erroneous  :  the  correspondences 
in  question  are  fundamental  and  pervading  ;  they  constitute 
an  identity  which  cau  only  be  explained  by  supposing  those 
who  founded  these  tongues  to  have  been  members  together 
of  the  same  community.  Others,  who  know  the  European 
languages  too  well  to  maintain  respecting  their  relations  any 
so  shallow  and  untenable  theory,  yet  try  to  persuade  them- 
selves that  the  analogy  of  the  Latin  will  sufficiently  account 
for  their  extension  over  so  wide  a  region  ;  that,  as  Etruscans, 
Celts,  Iberians,  Grermans,  learned  to  speak  a  tongue  of 
Homan  origin,  so  the  populations  of  Europe  and  Asia,  of  di- 
verse lineage,  learned  to  speak  a  connnon  Indo-European 
dialect  ;  and  that,  accordingly,  the  differences  of  Greek, 
Sanskrit,  Celtic,  and  Slavonic  are  parallel  to  those  of  Italian, 
Erench,  and  Spanish.  But  this  theor}',  though  more  plausible 
and  defensible  than  the  other,  is  hardly  less  untenable.  It 
exhibits  a  like  neglect  of  another  class  of  linguistic  prin- 
ciples :  of  those,  namely,  which  underlie  and  explain  the 
abnormal  extension  of  tongues  like  the  Latin  and  the  Arabic  : 
we  have  more  than  once  had  occasion  to  set  them  forth 
above.  In  order  to  establish  an  analogy  between  the  history 
of  Latin  and  that  of  Indo-European  speech,  and  to  make  the 
former  account  satisfactorily  for  the  latter,  it  would  be  ne- 
cessary to  prove,  or  at  least  to  render  probable,  the  existence 
in  a  very  remote  antiquity  of  those  conditions  which  in 
modern  times  have  been  able  to  give  such  a  career  to  the 
Inngufige  of  Eome.  But,  so  lar  as'  we  can  at  present  see, 
there  must  have  been  a  total  lack  of  the  reqnired  conditions. 
Force  of  character,  warlike  prowess,  superiority  of  inherent 
mental  capacity,  undevelo])id  or  partially  developed,  the 
lndo-Enropean»s  may  probably  have  possessed,  as  compared 


X.l  LANGUAGE    AND    RACE.  379 

^vit]l  the  more  aboriginal  races  of  Europe  ;  but  tbese  are  not 
the  forces  which  enable  the  language  of  a  small  minority  to 
stifle  that  of  the  masses  of  a  people  and  to  take  its  place ; 
if  it  were  so,  southern  Europe  would  now  be  talking  Grer- 
manic  instead  of  Romanic  dialects.  The  rude  beginnings  of 
a  higher  civilization,  as  metals,  instruments,  seeds,  domestic 
animals,  arts,  may  possibly  have  been  theirs  ;  yet  even  these 
would  merely  engraft  upon  the  languages  of  the  peoples  to 
whom  they  were  made  known  certain  words  and  phrases. 
Only  the  resources  of  an  enlightened  culture,  supplemented 
by  letters,  literature,  and  instruction,  could  give  to  any 
tongue  the  expansive  force  demanded  by  the  theory  we  are 
considering  ;  and  of  these,  it  is  needless  to  say,  no  traces 
are  to  be  found  in  Indo-European  antiquity.  AVe  have  no 
good  ground,  then,  for  doubting  that  the  great  extension  of 
the  languages  of  our  family  was  effected  by  the  usual  causes 
which  act  among  uncultivated  tongues  :  that  is  to  say, 
mainly  by  the  growth,  spread,  and  emigration  of  a  single 
race  ;  by  its  occupancy  of  ever  new  territory,  accompanied 
with  the  partial  destruction  and  partial  expulsion,  sometimes 
also  with  the  partial  incorporation  and  absorption,  of  the 
former  inhabitants ;  the  element  of  population  which  in- 
herited the  speech  and  institutions  of  the  original  Indo- 
European  tribe  being  ever  the  predominant  one  in  each  new 
community  that  was  formed.  How  many  fragments  of  other 
races  may  have  been  worked  in  during  the  course  of  the 
family's  migrations — how  far  the  purity  of  blood  of  one  or 
another  of  its  branches  or  sub-branches  may  have  been  thus 
affected  by  successive  partial  dilutions,  so  that  some  of  their 
present  peculiarities  of  type  are  attributable  to  the  mixture — 
is,  of  course,  a  legitimate  matter  for  inquiry,  and  one  upon 
which  we  may  ev§n  look  for  information  froni  their  lan- 
guages, when  these  shall  have  been  more  narrowly  examined. 
But  upon  the  whole,  in  the  light  of  our  present  knowledge, 
we  are  justified  in  regarding  the  boundaries  of  Indo-Europeac 
speech  as  approximately  coinciding  with  those  of  a  race  ;  the 
tie  of  language  represents  a  tie  of  blood. 

If  the  limitations   and  imperfections  of  the  two  kinds  of 
evidence  are  thus  in  certain  respects  somewhat  evenly  bal« 


880  VALUE   OF   LANGUAGE  [lECT. 

anced,  there  are  others  in  which  linguistic  evidence  has  ^ 
decidedly  superior  practical  value  and  availability.  The 
differences  of  language  are  upon  a  scale  almost  infinitely 
greater  than  those  of  physical  structure.  They  are  equal  ia 
their  range  and  variety  to  those  found  in  tlie  whole  animal 
kingdom,  from  the  lowest  organisms  to  the  hijjhest,.  instead 
of  being  confined  within  the  limits  of  the  possible  variation 
of  a  single  species.  Hence  they  can  be  much  more  easily 
and  accurately  apprehended,  judged,  and  described.  Lin- 
guistic facts  admit  of  being  readily  collected,  laid  down  with 
authentic  fidelity,  and  compared  coolly,  with  little  risk  of 
error  from  subjective  misapprehension.  They  are  accessible  i 
to  a  much  greater  number  of  observers  and  investigators. 
Exceptional  capacity,  special  opportunity,  and  a  very  long 
period  of  training,  are  needed  to  make  a  reliable  and  author- 
itative describer  of  race-characteristics.  It  is  true  that  to 
distinguish  from  one  another  yery  diverse  types,  like  the 
European  and  African,  is  a  task  which  presents  no  difficulty. 
But,  though  we  should  all,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  recog- 
nize a  native  of  Ireland  at  sight,  who  among  us  could  trust 
himself  to  make  a  faithful  and  telling  description  of  the  ideal 
Irishman,  such  that,  by  its  aid,  a  person  not  already  by  long 
experience  made  familiar  with  the  type  would  recognize  it 
when  met  with  ?  The  peculiarities  of  the  native  Irish 
dialect,  however,  are  capable  of  being  made  unmistakably 
plain  to  even  the  dullest  apprehension.  A  few  pages  or 
phrases,  often  even  a  few  words,  brought  back  by  a  traveller 
or  sojourner  in  distant  lands  from  some  people  with  which 
he  has  made  acquaintance,  are  likely  to  be  worth  vastly  more 
for  fixing  their  place  in  the  human  family  than  the  most 
elaborate  account  he  can  give  of  their  physical  character- 
istics. Photography,  with  its  utter  truth  to  nature,  can 
now  be  brought  in  as  a  most  valuable  aid  to  physical  de- 
scriptions, yet  cannot  wholly  remove  the  difficulty,  giving 
Buch  abundant  illustration  as  shall  enable  us  to  analyze  and 
separate  that  which  is  national  and  typical  from  that  which 
ia  individual  and  accidental.  This  last,  indeed,  is  one  of  the 
marked  difficulties  in  physical  investigations.  Two  person 
may  readily  be  culled  from  two  diverse   races  who  shall   he 


X.]  AS    EVIDENCE    OF    RACK.  381 

less  unlike  tlian  two  others  that  may  be  cliosen  from  tlie 
same  race.  While,  on  the  contrary,  words  and  phrasea 
taken  down  from  the  lips  of  an  individual,  or  written  or  en- 
graved by  one  hand,  can  be  no  private  possession  ;  they  must 
belong  to  a  whole  community. 

Tlie  superior  capacity  of  the  remains  of  language  to  cast 
light  upon  the  affinities  of  races  needs  only  to  be  illustrated 
by   an  instance   or   two.       Yfhat   could  have    impreguably 
established  the  ethnological  position  of  the  ancient  Persiaua 
like  the  decipherment  of  the  inscriptions  of  Darius  and  his 
successors,  which   show  that  they  spoke  a  dialect   so  nearly 
akin  with  those  of  Bactria   and  India  that  it  can  be  read  by 
the  latter's  aid  ?      What  could  exhibit  the  intimate  mixture 
of  races   and   cultures   in  the  valley  of  the   Euphrates   and 
Tigris,  and  the  presence  there  of  an  important  element  which 
was  neither  Indo-European  nor  Semitic,  except  the  trilingual 
inscriptions  of   the   Mesopotamian  monuments  ?     What   a 
pregnant  fact  in  African  ethnology  will  be,  if  fully  and  irre- 
fragably  proved,  the   relationship  of  the   Hottentot  dialects 
with  the  ancient  Egyptian  !      What  but  the  preserved  frag- 
ments of  their  speech  could  have  taught  us  that  the  Etrus- 
cans  had   no   kindred  with    any  other  of  the   known   races 
inhabiting  Europe  ?     And  when  would  physical  science  ever 
have  made  the  discovery  that   the   same  thing  is  true  of  the 
Basques,  whom  yet  it  has  all  the  opportunity  which  it  could 
desire  to  study  ?    But  the  most  important  of  the  advantages 
belonging  to  linguistic   science,  in  its  relation  to  ethnology, 
is  that  to  which  allusion  was  made  at  the  very  outset  of  our 
liscussions  :  namely,  that  language  tells   so   much  more  re- 
specting races  than  lies  within  the  reach   or  scope  of  the 
bhysicist.      In    every  part   and  particle,  it   is   instinct   with 
history.     It  is  a  picture  of  the  internal  life  of  the  community 
:o  which  it  belongs  ;  in  it  their  capacities  are  exhibited,  their 
characters    expressed ;     it    reflects    their    outward     circum- 
jtances,  records  their    experiences,   indicates  the  grade  of 
knowledge   they  have   attained,  exhibits   their   manners  and 
nstitutions.      Being   itself  an   institution,   shaped   by  their 
jonsenting  though   only  half-conscious   action,  it   is  an  im- 
)ortant  test  of  national  endowment   and  disposition,  like 


382  LINGUISTIC    AND    PHYSICAL    ETHNOLOGY.  [lECT. 

political  constitutiou,  like  jural  usage,  like  national  art. 
Even  where  it  tails  to  show  strict  ethnic  descent,  it  shows 
race-history  of  another  sort — the  history  of  the  influence 
which,  by  dint  of  superior  character  and  culture,  certain 
racos  have  exercised  over  others.  The  spread  of  the  Latin 
has  swept  away  and  obliterated  some  of  the  ancient  land- 
marks of  race,  but  it  has  done  so  by  substituting^  another 
unity  for  that  of  descent  ;  its  present  ubiquity  illustrates 
the  unparalleled  importance  of  E-ome  in  the  history  of  hu- 
manity. 

For  these  reasons,  and  such  as  these,  the  part  which  lan- 
guage has  to  perform  in   constructing  the  unwritten  history 
of  the  human  race  must  be  the  larger  and  more  important. 
There  are  points  which  physical  science  alone  can  reach,  or 
upon  which  her  authority  is  superior  :   but  in  laying  out  and  ; 
filling  up  the  general  scheme,  and  especially  in  converting  | 
what  would  else  be  a  barren  classification  into   something 
like  a  true  history,  the  work  must   chiefly  be  done  by  lin-i 
guistic  science.  I 

The  consi  'erations  we  have  been  reviewing  will,  it  is  < 
hoped,  guide  us  to  a  correct  apprehension  of  the  relations  of 
these  two  branches  of  ethnological  study.  Discord  between 
them,  question  as  to  respective  rank,  there  is  or  should  be 
none.  Both  are  legitimate  and  necessary  methods  of  ap- 
proaching the  solution  of  the  same  intricate  and  difficult 
question,  the  origin  and  history  of  man  on  the  earth 
question  of  which  we  are  only  now  beginning  to  understand 
the  intricacy  and  difficulty,  and  which  we  are  likely  always  to 
f.dl  short  of  answering  to  our  satisfaction.  There  was 
tiiiie,  not  many  years  since,  when  the  structure  and  history 
of  tlie  earth-crust  were  universally  regarded  as  a  simple 
matter,  the  direct  result  of  a  icwjiats,  succeeding  one  an- 
other within  the  space  of  six  days  and  nights :  now,  eve 
the  school-boj  knows  that  in  the  brief  story  of  the  Genesi 
are  epitomized  the  changes  and  developments  of  counties 
ages,  and  tluit  geology  may  spend  centuries  in  tracing  them 
out  and  describing  them  in  detail,  without  arriving  at  the 
end  of  her  task.  In  like  manner  has  it  been  supposed  that 
the  first  introduction  of  man  into  the  midst  of  the  prepared 


3l]  question  of  unity  of  human  race.  383 

creation  was  distant  but  six  or  seven  thousand  years  irora 
our  day,  and  we  have  hoped  to  be  able  to  read  the  record 
of  so  brief  a  career,  even  back  to  its  beginning ;  but  science 
is  accumulating  at  present  so  rapidly,  and  from  so  many 
quarters,  proofs  that  the  time  must  be  greatly  lengthened 
out,  and  even  perhaps  many  times  multiplied,  that  this  new 
modification  of  a  prevailing  view  seems  likely  soon  to  win 
as  general  an  acceptance  as  the  other  has  already  done.  And 
the  different  historical  sciences  are  seeing  more  and  moro 
clearly  their  weakness  in  the  presence  of  so  obscure  a  pro- 
blem, and  confessing  tiieir  inability  to  give  categorical  an- 
swers to  many  of  the  questions  it  involves. 

Such  a  confession  on  the  part  of  linguistic  science, 
with  reference  to  one  point  of  the  most  fundamental  interest 
and  importance  in  human  history,  it  next  devolves  upon  us 
to  make. 

A  second  question,  namely,  which  canuot  but  press  itself 
r.pon  our  attention,  in  connection  with  the  survey  we  have 
taken  of  the  grand  divisions  of  human  speech,  is  this:  What  is 
the  scope  and  bearing  of  the  division  into  families  ?  Does 
it  separate  the  human  race  into  so  many  different  branches, 
which  must  have  been  indepentlent  from  the  very  beginning? 
Does  linguistic  science  both  fail  to  find  any  bond  of  connec- 
tion between  the  families  and  see  that  no  such  bond  exists  ? 
Or,  in  short,  what  has  the  study  of  language  to  say  respect- 
ing the  unity  of  the  human  race  ? 

This  is  an  inquiry  to  which,  as  I  believe,  the  truths  we 
have  established  respecting  the. character  and  history  of  lan- 
guage will  enable  us  readily  to  find  a  reply.  But  that  reply 
will  be  only  a  negative  one.  Linguistic  science  is  not  now, 
and  cannot  hope  ever  to  be,  in  condition  to  give  an  author- 
itative opinion  respecting  the  unity  or  variety  of  our  species. 
This  is  not  an  acknowledgment  which  any  student  of  lan- 
guage likes  to  make  ;  it  may  seem  to  savour,  too,  of  pre- 
cipitation on  the  part  of  him  who  makes  it;  of  .a  lack  of 
faith  in  the  future  of  his  science — a  science  which,  although 
it  has  already  accomplished  so  much,  has  yet  confessedly 
only  begun  its  career.  That  those  linguistic  scholars — lor 
Buch  there  are — are  over-hasty  and  over-credulous  whc  sup* 


384  LANGUAaE    INCAPABLE    OF    PROVINa  [LECT. 

pose  themselves  to  have  proved  alrealy,  hy  the  evidence  of 
language,  that  all  mankind  are  akin  by  blood  as  ^vell  as  by 
nature,  Avill  be  conceded  by  many  \vho  are  yet  unwilling 
to  give  up  all  hope  of  seeing  the  proof  one  day  satisfactorily 
made  out.  Let  us,  then,  enter  into  a  brief  examination  of 
the  point,  and  a  consideration  of  the  grounds  upon  which  is 
fouiided  the  view  we  have  taken. 

To   show,  in   the   first   place,  that   linguistic   science   can 
never  claim   to  prove  the   ultiniate  variety  of  human  races 
will  be  no  long  or  difficult  task.      That  science,  as  we  have 
Been,  regards  language  as  something  which  has  grown  up,  iu 
the  manner  of  an  institution,  from  weak   and  scanty  begin- 
nings ;  it  is   a  development  out  of  germs  ;  it  started  with 
pimple  roots,  brief  in  form  and  of  indeterminate  meaning, 
by  the   combination  of  which  words   came  later   into  being. 
And  the  existing  differences  of  speech   among  men  are,  at 
least  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  the  result,  not  of  original 
diversity,  but   of  discordant  growth.      Now  we   cannot  pre- 
pume  to  set  any  limits  to  the  extent  to  which  languages  once 
the  same  may  have  grown  apart  from  one  another.     It  mat- 
ters not  what  opinion  we  may  hold  respecting  the  origin  of 
the  first  germs  of  speech  :  if  we  suppose  them  to  have  been 
miraculously  created  and  placed  in  the  mouths  of  the  first 
ancestors  of  men,  their  present  differences  would  not  justify 
us  in  believing  that  different  sets  must  have  been  imparted 
to  difierent  pairs,  or  groups,  of  ancestors  ;  for  the  same  in- 
fluences which  have   so   obscured    the   common   descent  of 
English,  Welsh,   and   Hindustani,  for   example,  may,   by  an 
action   more   prolonged   or   more   intense,  have  transformed 
germs  originally  common  beyond  even  the  faintest  possibility 
of  recognition.     And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  regard  them 
as  originated  by  the  same  agency  which  has  brought  about 
their  later   combinations   and    mutations,   by  men,   namely, 
using  legitimately  and   naturally  the    faculties  with   which 
they  have  been  endowed,  under  the  guidance  of  the  instincts 
and  impulses  implanted  in  them — and  no  linguist,  certainly, 
as  such,  has  any  right  to  deny  at  least  the  possibility  of  this    i 
origin  of  languuge — then   the   case   is  yet  clearer.      For  we 
cannot   venture  to   say  how  long  a  time  the  formation  of 


K.]  DIVERSITY    OF    HUMAN    RACES.  385 

roots  may  have  demanded,  or  during  TvLat  period  universal 
language  may  have  remained  nearly  stationary  in  this  its 
inceptive  stage.  It  is  entirely  conceivable  that  the  earliest 
human  race,  being  one,  should  have  parted  into  disjoined 
and  thenceforth  disconnected  tribes  before  the  formation  of 
any  language  so  far  developed  and  of  so  fixed  forms  as  to  be 
able  to  leave  traceable  fragments  in  the  later  dialects  of  the 
sundered  portions.  These  possibilities  preclude  all  dogmatic 
assertion  of  the  variety  of  bum  an  species  on  the  part  of  the 
linguist.  Among  all  the  known  forms  of  speech,  present 
and  past,  there  are  no  discordances  which  are  not,  to  his  ap- 
prehension, fully  reconcilable  with  the  hypothesis  of  unity 
of  race,  allowing  the  truth  of  that  view  of  the  nature  and 
history  of  speech  which  is  forced  upon  him  by  his  researches 
into  its  structure.  It  is  certain  that  no  one,  upon  the 
ground  of  linguistic  investigations  alone,  will  ever  be  able  to 
bear  witness  against  the  descent  of  all  mankind  from  a  single 
pair. 

That  no  one,  upon  the  same  grounds,  can  ever  bear  wit- 
ness in  favour  of  such  desc'ent  is,  as  it  appears  to  me,  equally 
demonstrable,  although  not  by  so  simple  and  direct  an  argu- 
ment, and  although  the  opinions  of  eminent  authorities  are 
at  variance  upon  the  point,  and  may  fairly  continue  to  be 
so  for  some  time  to  come,  until  more  of  the  fundamental 
facts  and  principles  in  linguistic  science  shall  have  been 
firmly  established  and  universally  accepted  than  is  the  case 
at  present.  We  have  here  no  theoretical  impossibility 'to 
rely  upon  ;  no  direct  argument  from  necessary  conditions, 
cutting  oft'  all  controversy.  As  the  linguist  is  compelled  to 
allow  that  a  unique  race  may  have  parted  into  branches  be- 
fore the  development  of  abiding  germs  of  speech,  so  he  must 
also  admit  the  possibility  that  the  race  may  have  clung  to- 
gether so  long,  or  the  development  of  its  speech  have  been 
so  rapid,  that,  even  prior  to  its  separation,  a  common  dialect 
had  been  elaborated,  the  traces  of  which  no  lapse  of  time, 
with  all  it-^  accompanying  changes,  could  entirely  obliterate. 
Nay,  he  was  bound  to  keep  that  possibility  distinctly  before 
his  mind  in  all  his  researches,  to  cherish  a  hope  of  making 
language  prove  community  of  blood  in  all  members  of  th* 

26 


386  UNCERTAINTIES    OF  [LECTJ, 

human  family,  until  conscientious  study  should  show  tho 
hope  to  be  grtmndless.  The  question  was  one  of  fact,  of 
what  existing  and  accessible  testimony  was  competent  to 
prove ;  it  was  to  be  settled  only  by  investigation.  But  I 
claim  that  investigation,  limited  as  its  range  and  penetration 
have  hitherto  confessedly  been,  has  already  put  us  in  con- 
dition to  declare  the  evidence  incompetent,  and  the  the^-iis 
incapable  of  satisfactory  proof. 

In  order  to  make  clear  the  justice  of  this  claim,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  recapitulate  some  of  the  results  we  have  won  in 
our  previous  discussions. 

The  processes  of  change  which  are  constantly  at  work  in 
language,  altering  both  the  form  and  the  meaning  of  its  con- 
stituent words,  were  set  forth  an  I  illustrated  with  sufficient 
fulness  in  our  early  lectures.  The  degree  of  alteration  which 
they  may  effect,  and  the  variety  of  their  results,  are  practically 
unlimited.  As  they  can  bring  utter  apparent  diversity  out 
of  original  identity,  so  they  can  impress  an  apparent  simi- 
larity upon  original  diversity.  Hence  the  difficulties  which 
beset  etymological  science,  its  ablise  by  the  unlearned  and 
incautious,  the  occasional  seeming  arbitrariness  and  violence 
of  its  procedures,  even  in  skilled  and  scientific  hands. 
Voltaire's  witty  saying,  that  in  etymologizing  the  vowels  are 
of  no  account  at  all,  and  the  consonants  of  very  little — to 
which  he  might  have  added,  that  the  meaning  is  equally  a 
matter  of  indifference — was  true  enough  as  regarded  the 
science  of  his  day  ;  but  we  must  also  confess  that  in  a  certain 
way  it  possesses  an  applicability  to  that  of  our  own  times. 
Even  modern  etymology  acknowledges  that  two  words  can 
hardly  be  so  different,  in  form  or  in  meaning,  or  in  both  form 
and  meaning,  tliat  there  is  not  a  possibility  of  their  being 
proved  descendants  of  the  same  word  :  any  sound,  any  shade 
of  idea,  may  pass  by  successive  changes  into  any  other.  The 
diiterence  between  the  old  hap-hazard  style  of  etymologizing 
and  the  modern  scientific  method  lies  in  this  :  that  the  latter, 
while  alhywiug  everything  to  be  theoretically  possible,  ac- 
cepts nothing  as  actual  which  is  not  proved  such  by  sufficient 
evidence;  it  brings  to  bear  upon  each  individual  ease  a  wide 
circle  of  related  facts ;  it  imposes  upon  the  student  the  ne 


J.]  ETYMOLOOTCAL    RESEARCHES.  387 

cessii y  of  extended  comparison  and  cautious  deduction ;  it 
makes  him  careful  to  inform  himself  as  thoroughly  as  circum- 
Btauces  allow  respecting  the  history  of  every  word  he  deala 
with. 

Two  opposing  possibilities,  therefore,  interfere  with  the 
directness  of  the  etymologist's  researches,  and  cast  doubt  on 
his  conclusions.  On  the  one  hand,  forms  apparently  un- 
connected may  turn  out  to  be  transformations  of  the  same 
original  :  since,  for  example,  the  French  eveque  and  the 
English  bishop,  words  which  have  no  common  phonetic  con- 
Btituent,  are  vet  both  descended,  within  no  very  lon^  time, 
from  the  Greek  episkopos ;  since  our  alms  comes  from  the 
Greek  eleemosune ;  since  our  sister  and  the  Persian  y/ihar 
are  the  same  word ;  since  the  Latin  filius  has  become  in 
Spanish  liijo  ;  and  so  on.  On  the  other  hand,  what  is  of  not 
less  importance  in  its  bearing  upon  the  point  we  are  con- 
sidering, he  must  be  equally  mindful  that  an  apparent  coin- 
cidence between  two  words  which  he  is  comparing  may  be 
accidental  and  superficial  only,  covering  radical  diversity. 
How  easy  it  is  for  words  of  different  origin  to  arrive  at  a 
final  identity  of  form,  as  the  result  of  their  phonetic  changes, 
is  evident  enough  from  the  numerous  homonyms  in  our  own 
language,  to  which  we  have  more  than  once  had  occasion  to 
refer.  Thus,  sound  in  *'  safe  and  sound  "  comes  from  one 
G-ermanic  word,  and  sound  in  "  Long  Island  Sound  "  from 
another ;  while  sound,  '  noise,'  is  from  the  Latin  sonus.  So 
we  have  2^,  page  of  a  book  from  the  Latin  pagina,  and  2^  page 
in  waiting  from  the  G-reek  paidion,  '  a  little  boy  ; '  wo  have 
cleave,  '  to  stick  together,'  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  clifian,  and 
cleave,  '  to  part  asunder,'  from  the  iVnglo-Saxon  clufan ; 
and  numberless  other  instances  of  the  same  kind.  Fortuitous 
coincidences  of  sound  like  these,  in  words  of  whollv  independ- 
ent derivation,  are  not  less  liable  to  occur  between  the 
vocables  of  different  languages  than  between  those  of  the 
same  language  ;  and  they  do  so  occur.  It  is,  further,  by  no 
means  infrequently  the  case  that,  along  with  a  coincidence, 
or  a  near  correspondence,  or  a  remoter  analogy,  of  sound, 
there  is  also  an  analogy,  or  correspondence,  or  coincidence, 
of  meaning — one  so  nearly  resembling  that  which  would  be 

*2o  • 


388 


CHANCE    COHRESPOXDENCSS    IN 


[lel'T 


the  eifect  of  a  genetic  relationsliip  between  the  two  words 
compared  a?  to  give  us  an  impression  that  they  must  be  re- 
lated, when  in  fact  they  are  not.  Resemblances  of  this  sort, 
of  every  degree  of  closeness,  do  actually  appear  in  abundance 
among  languages  related  and  unrelated,  demonstrably  as  the 
result  of  accident  alone,  being  mistaken  for  signs  of  genetic 
connection  only  by  incompetent  or  heedless  inquirers. 
Thus,  an  enterprising  etymologist,  turning  over  the  pages  of 
his  Hebrew  lexicon,  discovers  that  the  Hebrew  root  kophar 
mtans  '  cover ; '  and  he  is  at  once  struck  with  this  plain 
proof  of  the  original  identity  of  Hebrew  and  English : 
whereas,  if  he  only  looks  a  little  into  the  history  of  the 
English  word,  he  finds  that  it  comes,  through  the  Old  French 
cov7'ir,  from  the  Latin  cooperh^e,  made  up  of  <?o;i  and  operire  ; 
which  latter  is  gotten,  by  two  or  three  steps  of  derivation 
and  composition,  from  a  root  pa)%  '  pass  : '  and  this  puts 
upon  him  the  necessity,  either  of  giving  up  his  fancied 
identification,  or  of  making  out  some  degree  of  probability 
that  the  Hebrew  word  descended,  through  a  like  succession 
of  steps,  from  a  like  original.  Another  word-genealogist 
finds  that  lars  in  ancient  Etruscan  meant  '  a  chief,  a  head 
man,'  and  he  parades  it  as  an  evidence  that  the  Etruscan 
was,  after  all,  an  Indo-European  language  :  for  is  not  lars 
clearly  the  same  with  the  Scottish  word  laird,  our  lord? 
He  is  simply  regardless  of  the  fact  that  laird  and  lo)'d  are  the 
altered  modern  representatives  of  the  x\nglo-Saxon  Jilaford, 
with  whicli  lars  palpably  has  about  as  little  to  do  as  with 
hrigadier-grneral  or  diputij-slicriff.  A  Polynesian  scholar, 
intent  on  proving  that  Soutli-Sea  islanders  and  Europeans 
are  tribes  of  the  same  lineage,  points  out  the  almost  exact 
coincidence  of  tiie  Polynesian  mata  and  the  modern  Greek 
mati,  both  signifying  'eye:'  which  is  just  as  sensible  as  if 
he  were  to  compare  a  (hypothetical)  Polynesian  husa,  '  a 
four-wheeled  vehicle,'  with  our  'bus  (from  omnibus^  :  for 
mad  in  Grreek  is  abbreviated  tVom  ommation,  diminutive  nf 
omnia.  '  eye,'  and  lias  lost  its  originally  signilicant  part,  the 
syllable  oni,  rc[)resenting  the  root  op,  '  see,' 

These  are  only  a  few  s-amples  of  false  etymologies,  selected 
from  ainontr  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  with  which 


X.]  UNRELATED  LANGUAGES.  389 

all  linguistic  literature,  ancient  and  modern,  teems  ;  ivliich 
have  been  drawn  out,  with  infinite  expenditure  of  ill-directed 
ingenuity  and  misapplied  labour,  from  the  vocabularies  of 
tongues  of  every  age  and  every  clime.  There  is  not  one 
among  them  which  has  not  a  much  higher  pri7nd  facie  plausi- 
bility than  the  identity  of  eveque  and  bisJiop,  or  of  JUlus  and 
hijo,  or  than  numberless  others  of  the  true  etyraologiea 
established  upon  sufficient  evidence,  by  the  scientific  student 
of  languages  :  but  their  value  is  in  seeming  only  ;  they  are 
baseless  and  worthless,  mere  exemplifications  of  the  effects 
wrought  by  the  process  we  are  considering — the  process 
which  brings  out  accidental  analogies,  phonetic  and  signifi- 
cant, betw^een  words  historically  unrelated.  The  greater 
portion  of  false  etymologies  are  to  be  ascribed  directly  to  its 
influence  ;  and  their  number  is  a  sufficient  and  striking  proof 
of  the  wide  extent  of  its  action,  the  frequency  and  variety  of 
the  results  it  produces. 

The  fact  is  well  established,  that  there  are  no  two  lan- 
guages upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  of  however  discordant 
origin,  between  which  may  not  be  brought  to  light  by  dili- 
gent search  a  goodly  number  of  these  fiilse  analogies  of  both 
form  and  meaning,  seeming  indications  of  relationship,  which 
a  little  historical  knowledge,  when  it  is  to  be  had,  at  once 
shows  to  be  delusive,  and  which  have  no  title  to  be  reg:irded 
as  otherwise,  even  if  we  have  not  the  means  of  proving  their 
falsity.  It  is  only  necessary  to  cast  out  of  sight  the  general 
probabilities  against  a  genetic  connection  of  the  languiges 
we  are  comparing  (such  as  their  place  and  period,  their 
nearer  connections,  and  the  pervading  discordance  of  their 
structure  and  material),  and  then  to  assume  between  them 
phonetic  transitions  not  more  violent  than  are  actually 
proved  to  be  exhibited  by  other  tongues — and  we  may  find 
a  goodly  portion  of  the  vocabulary  of  each  hidden  in  that  ot 
the  other.  Dean  Swift  has  ridiculed  the  folly  which  amuses 
itself  with  such  comparisons  and  etymologies,  in  a  well- 
known  caricature,  wherein  he  derives  the  names  of  ancient 
Greek  worthies  from  honest  modern  English  elements,  ex- 
plaining  ^c7ii7/e5  as  'a  kill-ease,'  Hector  as  '  hacked-tore.' 
Alexander  the  Crreat  as  *  all   eggs  under  the  grate  !  '   and  so 


300  CHANCE    CORRESPONDENCES    IN  ^LECT. 

on.  This  is  very  absurd;  and  vet,  save  that  the  absurdity  of 
it  is  made  more  palpable  to  us  by  being  put  in  terms  of  our 
own  language  and  another  with  which  we  are  somewhat 
familiar,  it  is  hardly  worse  than  what  has  been  done,  and  is 
done,  in  all  soberness,  by  men  claiming  the  name  of  linguistic 
Bcholars,  It  is  even  novr  possible  for  such  a  man  to  take  an 
African  vocabulary,  and  sit  deliberately  dov.n  to  see  what 
words  of  the  various  other  languages  known  to  him  he  can 
explain  out  of  it,  producing  a  batch  of  corresponde-ices  like 
these  :  ahctele,  '  a  begging  beforehand  '  (which  he  himself  de- 
fines as  composed  of  a,  formative  prefix,  he,  '  beg,'  and  tele, 
'previously'),  and  Gorman  hstteln,  'beg'  (from  the  simpler 
root  hit,  het,  our  hid)  ;  iclaro,  '  that  which  becomes  collected 
into  a  mass,'  and  English  dross  ;  hasile,  '  landlord '  [ha  for 
oha,  'master,'  si,  'of,'  and  He,  'land'),  and  Greek  hasileus^ 
'  king  : '  and  the  comparer,  who  is  specially  versed  in  the 
mathematical  doctrine  of  chances,  gravely  informs  us  that 
the  chances  against  the  merely  accidental  character  of  the 
last  coincidence  are  "  at  least  a  hundred  million  to  one.'* 
INIore  than  one  unsound  linguist  has  misled  himself  and 
others  by  calculating,  in  the  strictest  accordance  with  mathe- 
matical rules,  how  many  thousand  or  million  of  chances  to 
one  there  are  atrainst  the  same  Avord  meaning  the  same 
thing  in  two  diflerent  and  unconnected  languages.  The 
calculation  is  futile,  and  its  result  a  fallacy.  The  relations 
of  language  are  not  to  be  so  simply  reduced  to  precise 
mathematical  expression.  If  words  were  wholly  inde- 
pendent entities,  instead  of  belonging  to  families  of  connected 
derivatives ;  if  they  were  of  such  precise  constitution  and 
application  as  so  many  chemical  formulas  ;  if  the  things  they 
designated  were  as  distinct  and  separate  individualities  as 
are  fixed  stars,  or  mineral  species,  or  geographical  localities — 
then  the  calculations  of  chances  would  be  in  place  respecting 
them.  But  none  of  these  things  are  true.  The  evidences 
on  which  linguistic  science  relies  to  prove  genetical  connec- 
tion are  not  identities  of  form  combined  with  identities  of 
meaning  :  forms  may  ditler  as  much  as  hi  jo  and  Jilius  ; 
meanings  m:iy  diifer  as  much  as  German  hrkoiiunen,  ^  gvt,* 
8ind  English  become^  *  come  to  be,'  and  hecame,  '  suit  j '  fom: 


X.]  UNRELATED    LANGUAGES.  391 

and  meaning  may  dlifer  together  to  any  extent,  and  yet  the 
words  may  be  one  and  the  same,  and  good  evidences  of  re- 
lationship betv.een  the  languages  to  which  thej  respectively 
belong.  Not  literal  agreement,  but  such  resemblances, 
nearer  or  more  distant,  clearer  or  more  obscure,  as  are  proved 
bv  supporting  facts  to  have  their  ground  in  original  identity, 
make  satisfactory  evidence  of  common  descent  in  langua,ge. 

Here,  then,  is  the  practical  difficulty  in  the  way  of  him 
who  would  prove  all  human  speech  a  unit.  On  the  one 
hand,  those  fortuitous  coincidences  and  analogies  which  any 
given  language  may  present  with  any  other  with  which  it  is 
comi pared  form  a  not  inconsiderable  body,  an  appreciable 
percentage  of  its  general  stock  of  words.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  historical  coincidences  and  analogies  traceable  be- 
tween two  languages  of  common  descent  are  capable  of  sink- 
ing to  as  low,  or  even  to  a  lower,  percentage  of  its  vocabu- 
lary. That  is  to  say,  there  may  be  two  related  tongues,  the 
genuine  signs  of  whose  relationship  shall  be  i?ss  numerous 
and  conspicuous  than  the  apparent  but  delusive  signs  of 
relationship  of  two  others  which  derive  themselves  from  inde- 
pendent origins.  The  former  have  been  so  long  separated 
from  one  another,  their  changes  in  the  mean  time  have  been 
so  pervading,  that  their  inherited  points  of  resemblance  aro 
reduced  in  number  and  obscured  in  character,  until  they  are 
DO  longer  sufficient  to  create  a  reasonable  presumption  in 
favour  of  their  own  historical  reality  ;  they  are  un distin- 
guishable from  the  possible  results  of  chance.  As  we  saw 
in  the  sixth  lecture  (p.  243),  evidences  of  genetic  connection 
are  cumulative  in  their  character  ;  no  single  item  of  corre- 
spondence is  worth  anything  until  there  are  found  kindred 
facts  to  support  it  ;  and  its  force  is  strengthened  with  every 
new  accession.  And,  in  the  comparison  of  languages,  the 
point  is  actually  reached  where  it  becomes  impossible  to  tell 
whether  the  few  coincidences  which  we  discover  are  the 
genuine  traces  of  a  community  of  linguistic  tradition,  or  only 
accidental,  and  evidence  of  nothing.  When  v/e  come  to 
holding  together  the  forms  of  speech  beloniijing  to  the  diverse 
families,  linguistic  testimony  fails  us  :  it  no  longer  has  force 
^o  prove  anything  to  our  satisfaction. 


392  FUTILITY    OF    COMPARISONS  [lECT, 

To  demonstrate  that  this  is  so,  we  do  not  need  to  enter 
into  a  detailed  examination  of  two  tongues  claimed  to  be 
unrelated,  and  show  that  their  correspondences  fall  incontest- 
ably  short  of  the  amount  required  to  prove  relationship :  we 
may  take  a  briefer  and  directer  argument.  We  have  seen 
that  the  established  linguistic  families  are  made  up  of  those 
dialects  which  exhibit  traceable  signs  of  a  common  historic 
development ;  which  have  evidently  grown  together  out  of 
the  radical  stage  (unless,  as  in  the  case  of  the  monosyllabic 
tongues,  they  have  together  remained  stationary  in  that 
stage)  ;  which  possess,  at  least  in  part,  the  same  grammatical 
structure.  There  are  some  linguistic  scholars  who  cherish 
the  sanguine  hope  that  trustworthy  indications  of  this  kind 
of  correspondence  may  yet  be  pointed  out  between  some  two 
or  three  of  the  great  families  ;  but  no  one  whose  opinion  is 
of  one  straw's  weight  thinks  of  such  a  thing  with  reference 
to  them  all.  So  discordant  is  the  whole  growth  of  many  of 
the  types  of  speech  that  we  can  find  no  affinities  among  them 
short  of  their  ultimate  beginnings  :  if  all  human  speech  is  to 
be  proved  of  one  origin,  it  can  only  be  by  means  of  an  identi- 
fication of  roots.  To  give  the  investigation  this  form,  how- 
ever, is  virtually  to  abandon  it  as  hopeless.  The  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  a  fruitful  comparison  of  roots  are  altogether 
overwhelming.  To  trace  out  the  roots  of  any  given  family, 
in  their  ultimate  form  and  primitive  signification,  is  a  task 
whose  gravity  the  profoundest  investigators  of  language  are 
best  able  to  appreciate.  Notwithstanding  the  variety  of  the 
present  living  dialects  of  the  Indo-European  family,  and  the 
noteworthy  preservation  of  original  forrjs  on  the  part  of 
some  among  them,  their  comparison  would  be  far  enough, 
from  furnishing  us  the  radical  elements  of  Indo-European 
speech.  Even  the  aid  of  the  ancient  tongues  but  partially 
removes  the  difficulty ;  and,  but  for  the  remarkable  and 
exceptional  character  of  the  Sanskrit,  our  knowledge  of  that 
stage  in  the  history  of  our  language  out  of  which  its  present 
grammatical  structure  was  a  development  would  be  but 
scanty  and  do\ibtful  ;  while  we  have  been  compelled  to 
couitss  (in  the  seventh  lecture)  that  we  know  not  how  far 
even  to  primitive  a  stage  may  lie  from  the  absolute  beginning. 


X.]  OF    ULTIMATE    ROOTS.  39.9 

The  correspoadlng  condition  of  Semitic  speech,  its  fonndafcioii 
of  triliteral  ]'oots,  is  to  no  small  extent  restorable  ;    but  ^Ye 
have  seen  that  these  roots  are  themselves  the  products  of  a 
strange   and   highly  perplexing   development,  beneath  which 
their  actual  origin  is  not  yet  discernible.      Among  the  differ- 
ent great  branches  of  the  Scythian  family,  the  recognizable 
radical  coincidences  are  hardly  sufficient,  if  they  are  sufficient, 
to  establish  their  unity  as  proceeding  from  the  same  stock  : 
a  reliable  basis  for  comparison  with  other  families  is  certainly 
not   furnished   us   here.       Nor   was   the   Scythian  the  only 
family  in  establishing  whose  unity  we  were   obliged   to   add 
the  evidence  of  morphological   structure  to  tliat  of  material 
correspondences  :    there  were  at  least  two,  the  mono.syllabic 
in  south-eastern  Asia  and  the  American,  which  were  founded 
almost  solely   on  accordance  of  type.     And  the  former  of 
them  is  a   striking   illustration   of   the  power  of  phonetic 
corruption  to  alter  and  disguise  the  bare  roots  of  languatj^e, 
without  help  from  composition  and  fusion  of  elements.     If 
we  cannot  find  material  correspondences  enough  between  the 
pure  radicals  of  Chinese,  Siamese,  and  Burmese  to  prove  these 
three  tongues  akin,  but  must  call  in,  to  aid  the   conclusion, 
their  common  characteristic  of  monosyllabism,  what  hope  can 
we  possibly  entertain  of  proving  either  of  them  akin  with 
Mongolian  or  Polynesian,  for  example,  with  which  they  have 
no  morphological  affiuity  ?      AYho  will  be  so  sanguine  as  to 
expect  to  di.scover,  amid  the  blind  confusion  of  the  American 
languages,  where  there  are  scores  of  groups  which  seem  to  be 
totally  diverse  in  constituent  material,  the  radical  elementa 
winch  have  lain  at  the  basis  of  their  common  development  ? 
Apparent  resemblances  among  apparent  roots  of  the  different 
families  are,  indeed,  to  be  found :  but  they  are  wholly  worth- 
less as  evidences  of  historical  connection.      To  the   general 
presumption  of  their  accidental  nature  is  to  be  farther  added 
the  virtual  certainty  that  the  elements  in  which  thev  appear 
are   not  ultimate  roots  at  all,  but  the  products  of  recent 
growth.       There   is   nothing,   it   may    be   remarked,    in   the 
character  of  ultimate  roots  which  should  exempt  them  from 
the  common  liability  to  exhibit  fortuitous  coincidences,  but 
rather  the  contrary.     The  system  of  sounds  employed  in  the 


304  FUTILITY    OF    ROOT-COMPARISONS. 

rudimentary  stage  of  linguistic  grov/th  was  comparatively 
scanty,  the  circle  of  ideas  represented  by  the  roots  waa 
narrow  and  limited,  the  application  of  each  root  more  vague 
and  indeterminate ;  hence  accideiital  analogies  of  form  and 
meaning  might  even^ore  reasonably  be  looked  for  between 
tlie  radical  elements  o£  unconnected  families  than  between 
their  hiter  developed  words. 

For  these  reasons  it  is  that  tlie  comparison  of  roots  is  not 
likely  to  lead  to  any  satisfactory  results  even  in  the  most 
favourable  cases,  and  cannot  possibly  be  made  fruitful  of 
valuable  and  trustworthy  conclusions  through  the  whole 
body  of  human  language.  There  are,  it  is  true,  not  a  few 
philologists — and  among  them  some  aul-horities  deserving  of 
the  highest  respect — who  hold  that  correspondences  enough 
have  been  found  between  Indo-European  and  Semitic  roots  to 
prove  the  ultimate  connection  of  those  two  families  of  lan- 
guage :  but  the  number  is  yet  greater  of  those  who  regard 
the  asserted  proof  as  altogether  nugatory.  The  attempt  has 
been  made  above  (in  the  eighth  lecture)  to  show  that  the 
governing  presumption  in  the  case  is  not  a  purely  linguistic 
one,  but  rather  a  historical ;  and  it  is  one  which  is  quite  as 
likely  to  be  weakened  as  to  be  strengthened  by  the  results 
of  future  researches.  But,  as  regards  the  point  now  under 
discussion,  the  admission  or  rejection  of  a  genetic  tie  between 
these  two  particular  families,  or  even  between  these  and  the 
Scythian  and  Chinese,  would  make  no  manner  of  dilference  : 
there  would  still  remain  the  impossibility  of  extending  alike 
tie,  by  linguistic  means,  to  the  other  great  families. 

Our  geneial  conclusion,  then,  which  may  be  looked  upon 
as  inconlrovertibly  established,  is  this  :  if  the  tribes  of  men 
are  of  dilfcrent  parentage,  their  languages  could  not  be 
expected  to  he  more  unlike  than  they  in  fact  are  ;  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  if  all  mankind  are  of  one  blood,  their  tongues 
need  not  be  more  alike  than  we  actually  find  them  to  be. 
The  evidence  of  language  can  never  guide  us  to  any  positive 
conclusion  respecting  the  specific  luiity  or  diversity  cf  human 
races. 


895 


f 


LECTUEE  XI. 


Origin  of  language.  Conditions  of  the  problem.  In  what  sense  Ian- 
guage  is  of  divine  origin.  Desire  of  communication  the  immediata 
impulse  to  its  production.  Language  and  thought  not  identical. 
Thought  possible  without  language.  Difference  of  mental  action  in 
man  and  lower  animals.  Language  the  result  and  means  of  analytic 
thought,  the  aid  of  higher  thought.  The  voice  as  instrument  of  ex- 
pression. Acts  and  qualities  the  first  things  named.  The  "bow-wow," 
"  pooh-pooh,"  and  "  ding-dong  "  theories.  Onomatopoeia  the  true 
source  of  first  utterances.  Its  various  modes  and  limitations.  Its 
traces  mainly  obliterated.     Remaining  obscurities  of  the  problem. 


In  tlae  last  lecture,  we  took  up  and  considered  certain 
matters  which  seemed  naturally  to  present  themselves  to  our 
attention  in  connection  with  our  survey  of  the  divisions  and 
characteristics  of  human  speech.  AVe  first  examined  the 
various  systemis  of  classification  of  languages,  according  to 
morphological  form  or  to  general  rank,  weighing  briefly  the 
value  of  the  distinctions  upon  which  they  are  founded ;  and 
we  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  no  other  mode  of  classifica- 
tion has  anything  like  the  same  worth  with  the  genetical,  or 
that  which  groups  dialects  together  by  their  historical  rela- 
tionship. AVe  then  passed  on  to  the  subject  of  the  general 
relations  between  linguistic  science  and  ethnology,  the 
history  of  human  races.  "VYe  saw  that  between  the  study  of 
language  and  that  of  physical  characteristics,  as  tests  of  race, 
there  can  be  no  discordance  and  jealousy,  but  only  an  honour- 
able emulation  and  mutual  helpfulness  ;  that  each,  feeling  its 
own  limitations  and  imperfections,  needs  and  seeks  the  assist- 
ance of  the  other ;  claiming,  also,  all  the  aid  which  i^corded 


ijlG  EIFFTCULTTKS    OF  -THE  [lECT. 

history  can  furnisli,  and  all    that  can  be  deriyed  from  arcliae- 
o!o,<:i;y,  to  correct  and  confirm  its  conclusions.     So  intricate 
and  difficult  of  solution  is  the  problem  set  before  us  in  the 
beginnings  of  history,  the  origin  and  ultimate  connections  of 
races,  that,  as  we  have  good  reason  to  fear,  our  utmost  efforts, 
our  most  cunning  combinations  of   all  attainable  evidence, 
from  whatever  sources  derived,  will  never  bring  us  to  a  dis- 
tinct and  confident  answer.     For  a  little  way,  history  and 
tradition  are  our  chief  guides ;  then,  the  study  of  language 
conducts   us   somewhat   farther,  although  with    feebler  and 
more  uncertain  steps;  while  physical  science  claims  to  give 
us  a  few  glimpses,  we  know  not  yet  of  what  reach  or  sweep, 
into  a  still  remoter  past.     And  as,  in  investigations  of  this 
trying  character,  it  is  of  no  small  consequence  to  know  what 
are  the  limits  and  defects  of  the  evidence  with  which  we  are 
dealing,  that  we  may  not  waste  our  strength,  and  prepare 
for  ourselves  bitter  disappointment,  by  searching  for  conclu- 
Bions  where  none  can  possibly  be  found,  we  entered  upon  an 
inquiry  as  to  whether  it  was  within  the  province  of  linguistic 
science    to    determine    the  vexed   question  of  the  unity  or 
multiplicity  of  the  human  race  ;  and  we  found  that  this  was 
not  the  case.     The  beginnings  of  language,  in  at  least  a  part 
of  the  recognized  families  of  languages,  are  too  much  covered 
up  and  hidden  under  the  products  of  later  growth  for  our  eyes 
ever  to  distinguish  them  with  any  even  tolerable  approach  to 
certainty  ;  and  the  correspondences  which  have  been  already, 
or   may  be  hereafter,   pointed  out   bet\veen    the    linguistic 
4naterial  of  different  languages,  now  reckoned  as  belonging  to 
diverse  families,  may  be  so  plausibly  explained  as  the  effects 
of  chance  that  they  can  never  be  accepted  as  the  sure  result 
and  sign  of  a  common  linguistic  tradition.      Our  conclusion 
here  was,  that  human  languages  might  well  have  become  as 
different  as  we  now  find  them  to  be,  even  though  all  of  them 
descended  from  the  rudimentary  and  undeveloped  dialect  of 
some  single  original  family  or  tribe  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
considering  the  acknowledged  unity  in  diversity  of  human 
nature,  we  should  not  expect  to  find  languages  any  more  un- 
like than  they  actually  are,  if  there  had  been  a  separate  Adam 
and  Eve  for  each  one  of  a  dozen  or  more  human  races. 


XI.]  ETHNOLOGICAL    PROBLEM.  897 

Wtetlier  physical  science  will  ever  reach  a  more  definite 
decision  of  the  same  question  is  at  present,  at  least,  very 
doubtful :  its  tendency  seems  now  to  be  toAvard  establishing 
such  a  capacity  of  mutation  in  species  as  wo.uld  explain  all 
the  tribes  of  men  as  possible  varieties  of  one  type  ;  without, 
of  course,  at  the  same  time  disproving  the  possibility  of  their 
independent  origin.  It  is  likely  enough  that  we  may,  at 
some  time,  reach  a  point  where  we  shall  be  able  to  say  that, 
upon  the  whole,  the  weight  of  probability  is  upon  this  side, 
or  upon  that :  anything  more  certain  and  categorical  we  can 
hardly  venture  to  look  for.  Happily,  the  question  is  one  of 
Jittle  practical  consequence :  the  brotherhood  of  men,  the 
obligation  of  mutual  justice  and  mutual  kindness,  rests  upon 
the  possession  of  a  common  nature  and  a  common  destiny, 
not  upon  the  tie  of  fleshly  relationship.  Those  who  would 
justify  their  oppression  of  a  whole  race  of  their  fellow-beings 
by  an  alleged  proof  of  its  descent  from  other  ancestors 
than  their  own  are  not  less  perverse — more  perverse  they 
could  not  well  be — than  those  who  would  sanctify  it  as  the 
execution  of  a  curse  pronounced  by  a  drunken  patriarch  upon 
a  portion  of  his  own  offspring.  It  is  as  shameful  to  attempt 
to  press  science  as  religion  into  the  service  of  organized 
injustice. 

But  if  linguistic  science  must  thus  observe  a  modest 
silence  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  human  race,  what  has 
it  to  say  respecting  the  origin  of  language  itself?  This  is 
an  inquiry  to  which  we  have  made  a  near  approach  at  one 
and  another  point  in  our  discussions  hitherto,  but  which  we 
have  carefully  refrained  from  grappling  with  seriously.  It 
has  not  lain  in  the  direct  line  of  our  investigations.  AVe 
have  been  engaged  in  analyzing  and  examining  the  recorded 
facts  of  language,  in  order  to  find  what  answer  we  could  to 
our  leading  question,  "  why  we  speak  as  we  do  ?  "  and  we 
have  been  brought  at  last  to  the  recognition  of  certain  ele- 
ments called  roots,  which  we  clearly  see  to  have  been  tho 
germs  whence  the  whole  development  of  speech  has  proceeded, 
but  which  we  do  not  dare  affirm  to  have  been  absolutely  the 
first  utterances  of  speaking  men.  These,  then,  are  the 
Iftistorical  beginnings  of  speech  ;    and  historical  research  will 


398  ORIGIN    OF   LANGUAGE  ;  [lECT, 

take  us  no  farther.  The  question  as  to  what  were  the  actual 
first  utterances,  and  how  they  were  produced, must  be  decided, 
if  at  all,  in  another  way — by  general  considerations  and  anal- 
ogies, by  inferences  from  the  facts  of  human  nature  and  the 
facts  of  language,  taken  together,  and  from  their  relations  to 
one  another.  It  falls  within  the  province  rather  of  linguis- 
tic philosophy,  as  a  branch  of  anthropology,  than  of  the 
historical  science  of  language.  But  the  subject  is  one  of 
such  interest,  and  for  the  proper  discussion  of  which  our 
historical  investigations  so  directly  prepare  the  way,  that  we 
cannot  refrain  from  taking  it  up.  It  may  be  that  we  shall 
find  no  sharp-cut  and  dogmatic  answer  to  our  inquiries  re- 
specting it,  but  we  may  hope  at  least  so  to  Tiarrow  down  the 
field  of  uncertainty  and  conjecture  as  to  leave  the  problem 
virtually  solved. 

We  may  fairly  claim,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  subject  has 
been  very  greatly  simplified,  stripped  of  no  small  part  of  its 
difficulty  and  mystery,  by  what  has  already  been  proved  as 
to  the  history  of  speech.  Did  we  find  no  traces  of  a  primi- 
tive condition  of  language  different  from  its  later  manifesta- 
tions, did  it  appear  to  us  as  from  the  very  beginning  a  com- 
pletely developed  apparatus,  of  complicated  structure,  with 
distinct  signs  for  objects,  qualities,  activities,  and  abstract 
conceptions,  with  its  mechanism  for  the  due  expression  of 
relations,  and  with  a  rich  vocabulary — then  might  we  well 
shrink  back  in  despair  from  the  attempt  to  explain  its  origin, 
and  confess  that  only  a  miracle  could  have  produced  it,  that 
only  a  superhuman  agency  could  have  placed  it  in  human 
possession.  But  we  have  seen  that  the  final  perfection  of 
the  noblest  languages  has  been  the  result  of  a  slow  and 
gradual  devolo[)ment,  under  the  iinpulse  of  tendencies,  and 
through  the  instrumentality  of  processes,  which  are  even  yet 
active  in  every  living  tongue  ;  that  all  this  wealth  has  grown 
by  long  accumulation  out  of  an  original  poverty  ;  and  that 
the  actual  ^erms  of  lanijuajxe  were  a  scant v  list  of  formless 
roots,  representing  a  few  of  the  most  obvious  sensible  acts 
and  phenomiMia  appearing  in  ourselves,  our  fellow-creatures, 
and  tiie  nature  by  which  we  are  surrounded.  We  have  now 
left  us  only  the  comparatively  easy  task  of  satisfying  our* 


A 


XI.]  IS   IT   DIVINE?  899 

selves  how  men  should  have  come  into  possession  of  these 
humble  rudiments  of  speech. 

And  our  attention  must  evidently  first  be  directed  to  the 
inquiry  whether  those  same  inventive  and  shaping  powers  of 
man  which  have  proved  themselves  capable  of  creating  out  of 
monosyllabic  barrenness  the  rich  abundance  of  inflective 
speech  were  not  also  equal  to  the  task  of  producing  the  first 
poor  hoard  of  vocables.  There  are  those  who  insist  much  on 
what  they  are  pleased  to  term  the  divine  origin  of  language  ; 
who  think  it  in  some  way  derogatory  to  the  honour  of  the 
Creator  to  deny  that  he  devised  roots  and  words,  and,  by 
some  miraculous  and  exceptional  agency,  put  them  ready- 
made  into  ther  mouths  of  the  first  human  beings.  Of  such  we 
would  ask  whether,  after  all,  language  can  be  in  this  sense 
only  a  divine  gift  to  man ;  whether  the  hand  of  the  Creator 
is  any  the  less  clearly  to  be  seen,  and  need  be  any  the  less 
devoutly  acknowledged,  in  its  production,  if  we  regard  man 
himself  as  having  been  created  with  the  necessary  impulses 
and  the  necessary  capacities  for  forming  language,  and  then 
as  having  possessed  himself  of  it  through  their  natural  and 
conscious  working3.  Language,  articulate  speech,  is  a 
universal  and  exclusive  characteristic  of  man :  no  tribe  of 
human  kind,  however  low,  ignorant,  and  brutish,  fails  to 
speak  ;  no  race  of  the  lower  animals,  however  highly  endowed, 
is  able  to  speak  :  clearly,  it  was  just  as  much  a  part  of  the 
Creator's  plan  that  we  should  talk  as  tliat  we  should  breathe, 
should  walk,  should  eat  and  drink.  The  only  question  is, 
whether  w^e  began  to  talk  in  the  same  manner  as  we  began  to^ 
breathe,  as  our  blood  began  to  circulate,  by  a  process  i^^^^--n_ 
which  our  own  will  had  no  part ;  or,  as  we  move,  eat,  clothe 
and  shelter  ourselves,  by  the  conscious  exertion  of  our 
natural  powers,  by  using  our  divinely-given  faculties  for  the 
satisfaction  of  our  divinely-implanted  necessities. 

That  the  latter  supposition  is  fully  sufficient  to  account 
for  our  possession  of  speech  cannot  with  any  show  of  reason 
be  denied.  Throughout  its  whole  traceable  history,  language 
has  been  in  the  hands  of  those  who  have  spoken  it,  for  mani- 
fold modification,  for  enrichment,  for  adaptation  to  the  vary- 
ing ends  of  a  varying  knowdedge  and  experience  j  nineteen 


400  ORIGIN    OF   LANGUAGE  ;  [LECE 

twentieths,  at  the  least,  of  the  speech  we  speak  is  demonstra- 
bly in  this  sense  our  own  work  :  why  should  the  remaining 
twentieth  be  thought  otherwise  ?  It  is  but  a  childish  philo- 
sophy which  can  see  no  otlier  way  to  make  out  a  divine 
agency  in  human  language  thau  by  regarding  that  agency  aa 
specially  aud  miraculously  efficient  in  the  first  stage  of  form- 
ation of  language.  We  may  fairly  compare  it  with  the  ' 
wisdom  of  the  little  girl  who,  on  being  asked  who  made  her, 
replied  :  "  Q-od  made  me  a  little  baby  so  high  "  (dropping  her 
hand  to  within  a  foot  of  the  floor)  "  and  I  grew  the  rest." 
The  power  which  originates  is  not  to  be  separated  from  tliat 
which  maintains  and  develops  :  both  are  one,  one  in  their 
essential  nature,  one  in  tlieir  general  mode  of  action.  AVe 
might  as  well  claim  that  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  that  the 
simple  dibits,  must  have  been  miraculously  revealed,  for  ele- 
ments out  of  which  men  should  proceed  to  develop  systems 
of  writing  and  of  mathematical  notation,  as  that  the  rudi- 
ments of  spoken  speech,  the  primitive  signs  of  mental  con- 
ceptions, must  have  had  such  an  origin. 

In  short,  our  recoguitiou  of  language  as  an  institution,  aa 
an  instrumentality,  as  no  integral  system  of  natural  and 
necessary  representatives  of  thought,  inseparable  from 
thought  or  spontaneously  generated  by  the  mind,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  a  body  of  conventional  signs,  deriving  their 
value  from  the  mutual  understanding  of  one  man  with 
another;  and,  farther,  our  recognition  of  the  history  of  this 
institution  as  being  not  a  mere  succession  of  changes 
wrought  upon  something  which  still  remains  the  same  in 
essential  character,  but  a  real  development,  effected  by 
human  forces,  whose  operations  we  can  trace  and  understand 
— these  take  away  the  whole  ground  on  which  the  doctrine 
of  the  divine  origin  of  language,  as  formerly  held,  reposed. 
The  orii;iu  of  language  is  divine,  in  the  same  sense  in  which 
mau'.s  nature,  with  all  its  capacities  a!id  acquirements,  physi- 
cal anil  moral,  is  a  divine  creation;  it  is  human,  in  that  it  il 
brought  about  through  that  nature,  by  human  instrument 
ality. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  make  any  farther  reference  to  at 
obji'ction,  already  once  alluded  to,  which  some  minds  maj 


II.]  IN   WHAT   SENSE    DIVINE.  405 

be  tempted  to  raise  against  our  whole  construction  of  the 
course  of  linguistic  history  out  of  the  evidences  of  composi- 
tion, phonetic  corruption,  transfer  of  meaning,  and  the  other 
processes  of  linguistic  growth,  which  we  find  in  all  the 
material  of  human  speech.  The  inquiry,  namely,  has  some- 
times been  raised,  whether  it  was  not  perfectly  possible  for 
the  Creator  to  frame  and  communicate  to  mortals  a  primitive 
language  filled  with  such  apparent  signs  of  previous  develop- 
ment, as  well  as  one  which  should  have  the  aspect  of  a  new 
creation.  Of  course,  must  be  our  reply  ;  nothing  is  theoret- 
ically impossible  to  Omnipotence  :  but  to  suppose  that  it  has 
pleased  God  to  work  thus  is  to  make  the  most  violent  and 
inadmissible  of  assumptions,  one  which  imputes  to  him  a 
wholly  degrading  readiness  to  trifle  with,  even  to  deliberately 
mislead  and  deceive,  the  reason  which  he  has  implanted  in 
his  creatures.  It  is  precisely  of  a  piece  with  the  suggestion 
once  currently  thrown  out,  when  the  revelations  of  geology 
were  first  beginning  to  be  brought  to  light,  that  fossils  and 
stratifications  and  such  like  facts  proved  nothing;  since  Grod, 
when  he  made  the  rocks,  could  just  as  well  have  made  them 
in  this  form  and  with  these  contents  as  otherwise.  With 
men  who  can  seriously  argue  upon  such  assumptions  it  is 
simply  impossible  to  discuss  a  historical  question :  all  the 
influences  of  historical  science  are  thrown  away  upon  them  : 
they  are  capable  of  believing  that  a  tree  which  they  have 
not  themselves  seen  spring  up  from  the  seed  was  created 
whole  in  the  state  in  which  they  find  it,  without  gradual 
growth  ;  or  even  that  a  house,  a  watch,  a  picture,  were  pro- 
duced j  ust  as  they  are,  by  the  immediate  action  of  almighty 
power. 

"We  may  here  fittingly  follow  out  a  little  farther  an 
analogy  more  than  once  suggested  in  our  preceding  discus- 
sions, and  one  which,  though  some  may  deem  it  homely  and 
undignified,  is  genuine  and  truly  illustrative,  and  therefore 
not  wanting  in  instruction:  it  is  the  analogy  between  lan- 
guage and  clothing  and  shelter,  as  alike  results  of  men's 
needs  and  men's  capacities.  Man  was  not  created,  like  the 
inferior  races,  with  a  frame  able  to  bear  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
climate  to  which  he   should  be  subjected;    nor  yet  with  a 

26 


402  ANALOGIES  BETWEEN  LANGUAGE        [  [lEOT 

natural  protective  covering  of  hair  or  wool,  capable  of  adapt* 
ill*);  itself  to  the  variety  of  the  seasons:  every  human  being 
is  born  into  the  world  naked  and  cringing,  needins^:  protection 
against  exposure  and  defence  from  shame.      Gifted  is  man, 
accordingly,  with  all  the  ingenuity  which  he  requires  in  order 
to  provide  for  tbis  need,  and  placed  in  the  midst  of  objects 
calculated  to  answer  to  his  requirements,  suitable  materials 
for  his  ingenuity  to  work  upon  ready  to  his  hand.     And 
hence,  it  is  hardly  less  distinctively  characteristic  of  man  to 
be  clad  than  to  speak  ;  nor  is  any  other  animal  so  universally 
housed  as  he.       Clothing  began  with   the   simplest  natural 
productions,  with  leaves  and  bark,  with  skins  of  wild  animals, 
and  the  like ;    as  shelter  with  a  cave,  a  hole  in  the  ground, 
the  hollow  of  a  tree,  a  nest  of  interwoven  branches.      But 
ingenuity  and   taste,   with   methods   perfected   and  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation,  made  themselves,  more 
and  more,  ministers  to  higher  and  less   simple  needs :  the 
craving  after  comfort,  ease,  variety,  grace,  beauty,  sought 
satisfaction  ;  and  architecture  by  degrees  became  an  art,  and 
dress-making  a  handicraft,  each  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of 
auxiliary  arts  and  handicrafts,  giving  occupation  to  no  insig- 
nificant part  of  the  human  race,  calling  into  action  some  of 
its  noblest  endowments,  and  bringing  forth  forms  of  elegance 
and   beauty — embodiments    of   conceptions,  realizations   of 
ideals,  produced  by  long  ages  of  cultivation,  and  capable 
neither  of  being  conceived  nor  realized   until  after  a  pro- 
tracted course  of  training.      So  was  it  also  with  language. 
Man  was  not  created  with  a  mere  gamut  of  instinctive  cries, 
nor  yet  with  a  8ong  like  the  bird's,  as  the  highest  expression 
of  his  love  and  enjoyment  of  life :  he  had  wants,  and  capaci* 
ties  of  indefinite  improvement,  which  could  be  satisfied  and 
developed  only  through  means  of  speech  ;  nor  was  he  treated 
by  nature  with  a  disappointing  and  batfling  niggardliness  in 
respect    to    them ;     he   was  furnished   also   with   organs  of 
speech,  and  the  power  to  apply  their  produ  ts  to  use  in  the 
formation  of  language.     His  first  beginnings  were  rude  and 
\n>unicic>nt,  but  the   consenting  labour  of  generations   has 
periected  them,  till  human  thought  has  been  clothed  in  gar- 
ments measurably  worthy  of  it,  and  an  edifice  of  speech  hai 


XI.]  AND   CLOTHING    AND    SHELTER.  403 

been  erected,  grander,  more  beautiful,  and  more  important 
to  our  race  than  any  other  work  whatever  of  its  producing. 
There  are  races  yet  living  whose  scanty  needs  and  inferior 
capacities  have  given  them  inferior  forms  of  speech,  as  there 
are  races  which  have  not  striven  after,  or  been  able  to  con- 
trive, any  but  the  rudest  raiment,  the  meanest  shelter.  But 
the  child  now  born  among  us  is  dressed  in  the  products  of 
every  continent  and  every  clime,  and  housed,  it  may  be,  in 
an  edifice  whose  rules  of  construction  have  come  down  from 
Egypt  and  Grreece,  through  generations  of  architects  and 
craftsmen ;  as  he  is  also  taught  to  express  himself  in  words 
and  forms  far  older  than  the  pyramids,  and  elaborated  by  a 
countless  succession  of  thinkers  and  speakers. 

This  comparison  might  profitably  be  drawn  out  in  yet 
fuller  detail,  but  I  forbear  to  urge  it  farther,  or  to  call  at- 
tention to  any  other  of  the  aspects  in  which  it  may  be  made 
to  cast  light  upon  the  development  of  speech.  Enough  has 
been  said,  as  I  hope,  to  make  plain  that  the  assumption  of 
miraculous  intervention,  of  superhuman  agency,  in  the  first 
production  of  speech,  is,  so  far  as  linguistic  science  is  con- 
cerned, wholly  gratuitous,  called  for  by  nothing  which  ia 
brought  to  light  by  our  study  of  language  and  of  its  relations 
to  the  nature  and  history  of  man. 

It  is  next  of  primary  and  fundamental  importance  that 
we  make  clear  to  ourselves  what  is  the  force  directly  and 
immediately  impelling  to  the  production  of  speech.  Speech, 
"we  know,  is  composed  of  external  audible  signs  for  internal 
acts,  for  conceptions — for  ideas,  taking  that  word  in  its  most 
general  sense.  But  why  create  such  signs  ?  The  doctrine, 
now,  is  by  no  means  uncommon,  that  thought  seeks  expres- 
sion by  an  internal  impulse  ;  that  it  is  even  driven  to  ex-  • 
pression  by  an  inward  necessity ;  that  it  cannot  be  thought 
at  all  without  incorporation  in  speech ;  that  it  tends  to  ut- 
terance as  the  fully  matured  embryo  tends  to  burst  its 
envelop,  and  to  come  forth  into  independent  life.  This  doc^ 
trine  is,  in  my  view,  altogether  erroneous :  I  am  unable  to 
see  upon  what  it  is  founded,  if  not  upon  arbitrary  assumption, 
combined  with  a  thorough  misapprehension  of  the  relation 
between  thought  and  its  expression.     It  is  manifestly  op« 

26  * 


401  LANGTTAGa   THE    PRODUCT  [lECT. 

posed  to  all  the  conclusions  to  whicli  we  have  been  thus  far 
led  by  our  inquiries  into  the  nature  and  office  of  speech. 
Speech  is  not  a,  personal  possession,  but  a  social ;  it  belons^s, 
Qot  to  the  individual,  but  to  the  member  of  society,  ^o 
item  of  existing  language  is  the  work  of  an  individual ;  for 
what  we  may  severally  choose  to  say  is  not  language  until  it 
be  accepted  and  employed  by  our  fellows.  The  whole 
development  of  speech,  though  initiated  by  the  acts  of  indivi- 
duals, is  wrought  out  by  the  community.  That  is  a  word, 
no  matter  what  may  be  its  origin,  its  length,  its  phonetic 
form,  which  is  understood  in  any  community,  however  limited, 
as  the  sign  of  an  idea ;  and  their  mutual  understanding  is  the 
only  tie  which  connects  it  with  that  idea.  It  is  a  sign  which 
each  one  has  acquired  from  without,  from  the  usage  of  others; 
and  each  has  learned  the  art  of  intimating  by  such  signs  the 
internal  acts  of  his  mind.  Mutual  intelligibility,  we  have 
seen,  is  the  only  quality  which  makes  the  unity  of  a  spoken 
tongue ;  the  necessity  of  mutual  intelligibility  is  the  only 
force  which  keeps  it  one  ;  and  the  desire  of  mutual  intelligi- 
bility is  the  impulse  which  called  out  speech.  Man  ispeaks, 
then,  primarily,  not  in  order  to  think,  but  in  order  to  impart 
his  thought.  His  social  needs,  his  social  instincts,  force  him 
to  expression.  A  solitary  man  would  never  frame  a  language.  ^ 
Let  a  child  grow  up  in  utter  seclusion,  and,  however  rich  ajui 
suggestive  might  be  the  nature  around  him,  however  full  and 
appreciative ,  his  sense  of  that  which  lay  without,  and  his 
consciousness  of  that  which  went  on  within  him,  he  would 
all  his  life  remain  a  mute.  On  the  other  hand,  let  two 
children  grow  up  together,  wholly  untaught  to  speak,  and 
they  would  inevitably  devise,  step  by  step,  some  means  of  ex- 
pression for  the  purpose  of  communication ;  how  rudiment- 
ary, of  what  slow  growth,  we  cannot  tell — and,  however  in- 
teresting and  instructive  it  would  be  to  test  the  matter  by 
experiment,^humanity  forbids  us  ever  to  hope  or  desire  to  do 
so;  doubtless  the  cliaracter  of  the  speech  produced  would  vary 
with  difference  of  capacity,  with  natural  or  accidental  diifer- 
ence  of  circuiiistanccs  :  but  it  is  inconceivable  that  human 
beings  should  abide  long  in  each  other's  society  without 
eftbrts,  aii.i  successful  efforts,  at  intelligent  interchange  of 


I 


XI.]  OP   SOCIAL   WANTS    AND   IMPULSES.  405 

tliouglit.  Again,  let  one  who  had  gi'own  up  even  to  man- 
hood among  his  fellows,  in  full  and  free  communication  with 
them,  be  long  separated  from  them  and  forced  to  live  in 
Bolitude,  and  he  would  unlearn  his  native  speech  by  degree? 
through  mere  disuse,  and  be  found  at  last  unaole  to  converso 
at  all,  or  otherwise  than  lamely,  until  he  had  recovered  bj 
new  practice  his  former  facility  of  expression.  While  a 
Swiss  Family  Eobinson  keep  up  their  language,  and  enrich 
it  with  names  for  all  the  new  and  strange  places  and  products 
with  which  their  novel  circumstances  bring  them  in  contact, 
a  Eobiuson  Crusoe  almost  loses  his  for  lack  of  a  companion 
with  whom  to  employ  it.  We  need  not,  however,  rely  for 
this  conclusion  upon  imaginary  cases  alone.  It  is  a  well- 
known  fiict  that  children  who  are  deprived  of  hearing  even 

,  at  the  age  of  four  or  five  years,  after  they  have  learned  to 
speak  readily  and  well,  and  who  are  thus  cut  off  from  vocal 

)  communication  with  those  about  them,  usually  forget  all  they 

!  had  learned,  and  become  as  mute  as  if  they  had  never  ac- 
quired the  power  of  clothing  their  thoughts  in  words.  The 
internal  impulse  to  ex])ression  is  there,  but  it  is  impotent 
to  develop  itself  and  produce  speech  :  exclusion  from  the 
o/dinary  intercourse  of  man  with  man  not  only  thwarts  its 

I  progress,  but  renders  it  unable  to  maintain  itself  upon  the 
stage  at  which  it  had  already  arrived. 

Language,  then,  is  the  spoken  means  whereby  thought  is 
communicated,  and  it  is  only  that.  Language  is  not  thought, 
nor  is  thought  language ;  nor  is  there  a  mysterious  and  in- 
dissoluble connection  between  the  two,  as  there  is  between 
soul  and  body,  so  that  the  one  cannot  exist  and  manifest 
itself  without  the  other.  There  can  hardly  be  a  greater  and 
more  pernicious  error,  in  linguistics  or  in  metaphysics,  than 
the  doctrine  that  lanjiuaofe  and  thoutrht  are  identical.  It  is, 
unfortunately,  an  error  often  committed,  both  by  linguists 
and  by  metaphysicians.  "  Man  speaks  because  he  thinks  " 
is  the  dictum  out  of  which  more  than  one  scholar  has  pro- 
ceeded-to  develop  his  system  of  linguistic  philosophy.  The 
assertion,  indeed,  is  not  only  true,  but  a  truism  ;  no  one  can 
presume  to  claim  that  man  would  speak  if  he  did  not  think : 
but  no  fair  logical  process  can  derive  any  momentous  eoii' 


406  LANGUAj    -'   AND    IIIOUGHT  [LECT 

elusions  from  so  loose  a  premise.  So  man  -would  not  wear 
clothes  if  he  had  not  a  body  ;  he  v*^ould  not  build  spinning 
mules  and  jennies  if  cotton  did  not  grow  on  bwshes,  or  wool 
on  slieep's  backs :  yet  the  body  is  more  than  raiment,  nor  do 
cotton-bushes  and  sheep  necessitate  wheels  and  water-power. 
The  body  would  be  neither  comfortable  nor  comely,  if  not 
clad  ;  cotton  and  wool  would  be  of  little  use,  but  for  ma- 
chinery making  quick  and  cheap  their  conversion  into  cloth  ; 
and,  in  a  truly  analogous  way,  thought  would  be  awkward, 
feeble,  and  indistinct,  without  the  dress,  the  apparatus, 
w^hich  is  afforded  it  in  language.  Our  denial  of  the  identity 
of  thought  with  its  expression  does  not  compel  us  to  abate 
one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  exceeding  value  of  speech  to  thought ; 
it  only  puts  that  value  upon  its  proper  basis. 

That  thought  and  speech  are  not  the  same  is  a  direct  and 
necessary  inference,  I  believe,  from  more  than  one  of  the 
truths  respecting  language  which  our  discussions  have  already 
established ;  but  the  high  importance  attaching  to  a  right 
understanding  of  the  point  will  justify  us  in  a  brief  review 
of  those  truths  in  their  application  to  it.  In  the  first  place, 
we  have  often  had  our  attention  directed  to  the  imperfection 
of  language  as  a  full  representation  of  thought.  Words  and 
phrases  are  but  the  skeleton  of  expression,  hints  of  meaning, 
light  touches  of  a  skilful  sketcher's  pencil,  to  which  the  ap- 
preciative sense  and  sympathetic  mind  must  supply  the 
filling  up  and  colouring.  Our  own  mental  acts  and  states 
we  can  review  in  our  consciousness  in  minute  detail,  but  we 
can  never  perfectly  disclose  them  to  another  by  speech  ;  nor 
will  words  alone,  with  whatever  sincerity  and  candour  they 
may  be  uttered,  ])ut  us  in  ])ossession  of  another's  conscious- 
ness. In  anything  but  the  most  objective  scientific  descrip- 
tion, or  the  driest  reasoning  on  subjects  the  most  plain  and 
obvious,  we  want  more  or  less  knowledge  of  the  individuality 
of  the  speaker  or  writer,  ere  we  can  understand  him  inti- 
mately ;  his  style  of  thought  and  isentiment  must  be  gathered 
iVom  the  totality  of  our  intercourse  with  him,  to  make  U8 
sure  that  we  penetrate  to  the  central  meaning  of  any  word 
he  \itters  ;  and  such  study  may  enable  us  to  find  deeper  and 
deeper  significance  in  expressions  that  once  seemed  trivial  01 


XI.]  NOT   IDENTICAL.  407 

commonplace.  A  look  or  tone  often  sheds  more  ligl  t  upon 
ctaraeter  or  intent  tHan  a  flood  of  words  could  do.  Humour, 
banter,  irony,  are  illustrations  of  what  tone,  or  style,  or  per- 
ceived incongruity  can  accomplish  in  the  way  of  impressing 
upon  words  a  different  meaning  from  that  which  they  of 
themselves  would  wear.  That  language  is  impotent  to 
express  our  feelings,  though  often,  perhaps,  pleaded  as  a  form 
merely,  is  also  a  frequent  genuine  experience ;  nor  is  it  for 
our  feelings  alone  that  the  ordinary  conventional  phrases, 
weakened  in  their  force  by  insincere  and  hyperbolical  use,  are 
found  insufficient :  apprehensions,  distinctions,  opinions,  of 
every  kind,  elude  our  efforts  at  description,  definition,  inti- 
mation. How  often  must  we  labour,  by  painful  circumlocu- 
tion, by  gradual  approach  and  limitation,  to  place  before  the 
minds  of  others  a  conception  which  is  clearly  present  to  our 
own  consciousness !  How  often,  when  we  have  the  expres- 
sion nearly  complete,  we  miss  a  single  word  that  we  need, 
and  must  search  for  it,  in  our  memories  or  our  dictionaries, 
perhaps  not  finding  it  in  either !  How  different  is  the 
capacity  of  ready  and  distinct  expression  in  men  whose  power 
of  thought  is  not  unlike !  he  whose  grasp  of  mind  is  the 
greatest,  whose  review  of  the  circumstances  that  should  lead 
to  a  judgment  is  most  comprehensive  and  thorough,  whose 
skill  of  inference  is  most  unerring,  may  be,  much  more  thau 
another  of  far  weaker  gifts,  awkward  and  clumsy  of  speech. 
How  often  we  understand  what  one  says  better  than  he 
himself  says  it,  and  correct  his  expression,  to  his  own  grati- 
fication and  acceptance.  And  if  all  the  resources  of  ex- 
pression are  not  equally  at  the  command  of  all  men  of  equal 
mental  force  and  training,  so  neither  are  they,  at  their  best, 
adequate  to  the  wealth  of  conception  of  him  who  "wields 
them  ;  that  would  be  but  a  poorly  stored  and  infertile  mind 
which  did  not  sometimes  feel  the  limited  capacity  of  lan- 
guage, and  long  for  fuller  means  of  expression. 

But  again,  the  variety  of  expression  of  which  the  same 
thought  admits  is  an  insuperable  difficulty  in  the  way  of 
the  identification  we  are  opposing.  To  recur  once  more  to 
an  illustration  of  which  we  have  already  made  use — I  form 
and  utter,  for  instance,  the  thought,  Jish  like  water.     How 


4«03  RELATION    OF  [LECaCL 

nearly  bare  this  phrase  is  of  all  indication  of  relations 
between  the  principal  ideas,  how  ambiguous  it  is,  but  for  the 
tone,  the  sonnection,  the  circumstances  iu  which  it  is  used, 
was  pointed  out  before.  If  I  say  "  fish,  like  water-rats, 
Bwim  in  rivers,"  or  "  fish-like  water-snakes  abound  here,"  I 
have  variously  changed  the  elements  of  thought  which  these 
words  indicate,  without  any  corresponding  change  of  their 
form.  Were  I,  now,  an  ancient  Eoman,  the  words  in  which 
I  should  have  put  my  first  thought  would  be  pisces  amant 
aquam.  Here,  not  only  are  the  signs  totally  difterent,  but  a 
host  of  things  are  distinctly  expressed  which  before  were  left 
to  be  inferred  from  the  sum  and  surroundings  of  the  state- 
ment. Pisces  is  marked  not  only  as  being  a  noun  and 
nothing  else,  but  a  noun  in  a  certain  case  of  the  plural 
number  ;  amant  is  not  less  clearly  a  verb,  and  to  be  made 
nowhere  but  in  the  third  person  plural  of  the  present  indica- 
tive active ;  while  aquam  shows  by  its  form  that  it  is  used  as 
the  direct  object  of  the  preceding  verb,  and  that  in  all  con- 
nections it  is  to  be  treated  as  a  feminine  word.  If,  again,  I 
were  a  Frenchman,  I  should  have  said,  les  poissons  aiment 
Veau,  literally,  '  the  fishes  love  the  water.'  Here  nearly  all 
the  expressions  of  relation  Avhich  the  Latin  words  conveyed 
are  lost  again ;  in  part,  they  are  left  to  inference,  as 
in  English ;  in  part,  they  are  intimated  by  the  two 
independent  relational  words,  articles ;  which,  moreover, 
point  out  a  new  relation,  that  of  class  (fish  in  general,  not 
some  fish  only),  not  hinted  at  in  eitlier  of  the  other  phrases. 
The  Chinese  would  embody  the  same  sense  in  still  other 
words,  which  would  be  even  more  barren  than  our  English  of 
any  indication  of  relations  except  such  as  is  signified  by  the 
respective  position  of  the  words  and  the  requirements  of  the 
situation.  Other  languages,  in  expressing  the  same  idea, 
would  indicate  yet  other  distinctions  and  relations :  one, 
j)erhaps,  has  a  different  word  for  fish  when  living  from  that 
which  denotes  them  when  dead,  or  prepared  for  eating; 
another  signifies  the  fondness  which  fish  have  for  their  native 
element  by  one  term,  and  tlie  higher  aftections  of  more 
rational  beings  by  another  ;  and  so  on.  There  is  thus  a  very 
cousideral)le    discordance   between    the    various    equivalent 


XI.]  LANGUAGE  AND  THOUGHT.  409 

plirases,  as  to  how  mucli  and  what  is  expressed  in  the  words 
signitying  the  three  radical  ideas,  of  Jish,  liMng,  and  water, 
ds  to  how  much  is  expressed  besides  those  ideas,  and  as  to 
how  it  is  expressed ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  total  discord- 
ance between  the  sounds  used  to  indicate  the  various 
elements.  And  yet,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  the  thought 
expressed  is  in  every  instance  the  very  same :  certainly, 
there  is  no  difference  of  thought  corresponding  to  or 
measured  by  the  difference  of  expression.  Each  speaker's 
intent,  were  he  called  upon  to  explain  it  fully,  would  be 
found  to  agree  with  that  of  the  rest ;  only  his  uttered 
words  directly  signify  a  part,  and  leave  the  rest  to  be  filled 
in  by  the  mind  of  the  hearer.  How,  now,  can  any  one 
possibly  maintain  that  thought  and  speech  are  one  and  the 
same,  when  identity  of  thought  can  consist  with  so  much 
diversity  of  speech  ? 

Look,  once  more,  at  the  nature  of  the  tie  which,  as  repeat- 
edly pointed  out,  connects  any  one  of  the  spoken  signs  we 
use  with  the  conception  it  represents,      I  learned  the  word 
fish  at  an  early  period  of  my  life  from  my  instructors,  and 
associated  it  so  intimately  with  a  certain  idea  that  the  two 
are  in  my  mind  well-nigh  inseparable  :    I  cannot  hear  Jlsh 
without   having  the  corresponding  thing  called  up  in  my 
imagination,  nor  utt^r  it  without  calling  up  the  same  in  the 
imagination  of  every  person  who  has  been  taught  as  I  was  ; 
nor,  9gain,  does  any  one  of  us  ordinarily  form  the  conception 
of  a  fish  without  at  the  same  time  having  the  audible  complex 
tif  sound s,j^5^,  uttered  to  the  mind's   ear.      In   later   life,   I 
have  learned  and  associated  with  the  same  conception  other 
words,  as  piscis,  poisso?i,  ichthus  (Greek),  and  so  forth;   any 
one  of  these  I  can  call  up  at  will,  and  employ  in  plaf-e   of 
Jisli,  w^hen  circumstances  make  it  desirable.     That  I  here  use 
fish  is  simply  for  the  reason  that  I  am  addressing  myself  to 
those  who  have  mastered  this  sign,  understand  it  readily,  and 
are  accustomed  to  employ  it ;  the  conventional  usage  of  the 
community  to  which  I  belong,  not  anything  in  the  character 
i-«f  my  thought,  impose^  the  necessity  upon  me  :   if  I  went  to 
France,  I  should  substiiute  the  sign  poisson  for  precisely  the 
^  Bame  reason.     And  I  might  stay  so  long  in  France,  and  saj 


410  RELATION    OF  ,  [LECS 

and  hear  poisson  so  often,  that  it  should  become  more  inti- 
mately associated  with  its  conception  than  f-fsh,  and  should 
come  more  readily  and  naturally  than  tlie  latter  into  my 
mind  on  presentation  of  the  conception  :  I  should  then  hava 
learned,  as  we  phrase  it,  to  think  in  French  instead  of 
English.  How  futile,  I  say  again,  to  talk  of  such  a  thing  as 
identity  between  thought  and  the  expression  uhich  sits  so 
loosely  upon  it,  and  can  be  so  easily  sliifted !  As  well  com- 
pare the  house  of  the  hermit-crab — which,  born  soft  and 
coverless,  takes  refuge  in  the  first  suitable  shell  which  chance 
throws  in  its  way,  and  thenceforth  ma^es  that  its  home, 
unless  convenience  and  opportunity  lead  it  to  move  to 
another — with  that  of  the  turtle,  whose  horny  covering  is  a 
pari  of  its  own  structure,  and  cannot  be  torn  off  without 
destruction  of  its  life. 

Is  there  not,  in  fact,  something  approaching  to  palpable 
absurdity  in  the  doctrine  that  words  and  thoughts  are 
identical,  that  the  mind  thinks  words?  Words  are  not 
mental  acts  ;  they  are  combinations  of  sounds,  effects  pro- 
duced upon  tlie  auditory  nerve  by  atmospheric  vibrations, 
which  are  brought  about  by  physical  agencies — agencies  set  in 
operation,  it  is  true,  by  acts  of  volition,  but  whose  products  are 
no  more  mental  than  are  pantomimic  motions  voluntarily 
made  with  the  fingers.  We  know  well,  indeed,  that  there  is 
a  language  composed  of  such  motions  instead  of  uttered 
words  :  namely,  the  language  taught  as  means  of  communica- 
tion and  expression  to  those  whose  ear  is  numb  to  the 
ordinary  signs  of  thought.  Nothing  brings  more  distinctly 
to  light  the  true  nature  of  language,  as  a  system  of  arbitrary 
signs  for  thought,  learned  and  made  auxiliary  to  the  processes 
of  thought,  than  a  consideration  of  the  modes  of  speech 
practised  by  the  deaf  and  dumb  :  whether  their  general  lan- 
guage, which  intimates  ideas  by  significant  gestures,  possess- 
ing in  the  main  a  certain  degree  of  evident  relevancy,  but 
conventional  in  their  special  application ;  or  their  finger- 
speech,  that  most  strange  and  anomalous  mode  of  represent- 
ation of  ideas  at  second  hand,  by  wholly  arbitrary  contortions 
of  certain  appendages  of  the  body,  standing  for  another  kind 
oi  sigTis,  namely  articulate  sounds,  of  ihe  true  nature  oi 


XI.]  LANGU.vtbrfi   AXD    fHOTIGl     .  411 

which  these  unfortunate  being^s  cannot  form  the  slisrhtest 
conception.  But  either  of  these  kinds  of  language,  or  their 
combintition,  answers  for  the  deaf-mute  the  same  purpose 
that  our  speech  answers  for  us,  and  in  the  same  way,  only  in 
an  inferior  degree,  owing  to  the  comparative  imperfection  of 
the  instrumentality — although  the  question  may  be  seriously 
raised,  whether  it  be  not  nearly  or  quite  as  eifectiv^e  a  means 
of  expression  and  aid  of  thought  as  is  a  rude  and  rudimentary 
spoken  language  like  the  Chinese.  If,  then,  thought  and 
language  are  identical,  thought  and  pantomime  are  not  less 
so  ;  if  we  think  words,  the  mute  must  think  linger-twists : 
and  who  will  venture  seriously  to  maintain  a  proposition  so 
manifestly  preposterous  ? 

But  if  we  must  thus  deny  that,  in  any  admissible  sense  of 
the  expression,  language  is  thought,  it  still  remains  for  us  to 
inquire  whether  thought  is  not  co-extensive  with  and  depend- 
ent upon  language  ;  whether  we  can  think  otlierwise  than  in 
and  by  words.  The  claim  is  sometimes  roundly  made,  that 
"  general  ideas  and  words  are  inseparable  ;  that  the  one  can- 
not exist  without  the  other  ;  "  that,  "  without  words,  not  even 
such  simple  ideas  as  white  or  black  can  for  a  moment  be 
realized."  Let  us  examine  for  a  moment  this  last  assertion, 
and  see  whether  it  be  well  founded.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
that  there  occurred  but  a  single  white  substance,  namely 
snow,  in  the  nature  by  which  we  are  surrounded :  it  is  both 
possible  and  altogether  likely  that,  while  we  had  a  name  for 
the  substance,  we  should  have  none  for  the  colour :  and  yet, 
we  should  not  therefore  any  the  less  apprehend  that  colour, 
as  distinct  from  those  of  other  objects ;  even  as  we  no\^ 
apprehend  a  host  of  shades  of  blue,  green,  red,  purple,  for 
which  we  possess  no  specific  appellations.  "  We  conceive  of 
them,  we  are  able  to  recognize  them  at  sight,  but  their 
practical  value  is  not  sufiicient  to  lead  us  to  name  them 
separately.  If,  then,  on  going  southward,  we  made  acquaint- 
ance with  cotton,  we  should  not  fail  to  notice  and  fully  to 
realize  its  accordance  with  snow  in  the  quality  of  whiteness, 
even  though  we  had  no  name  for  the  quality.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  should  certainly  proceed  to  call  cotton  "  snowv," 
for  the  precise  reason  that  we  did  notice  the  correspondence 


412  POWER    OF    THOUGHT  [lEOT. 

of  the  two  in  colour  ;  and,  as  we  went  on  to  meet  with  other 
substances  of  like  hue,  we  should  call  them  "snowy"  also; 
and  at  length — particularly,  if  we  had  left  the  zone  of  snow 
behind  us — snowy  would  come  to  mean  in  our  use  what 
white  does  now,  and  snowiness  would  signify  '  whiteness.' 
"VVe  should  have  supplied  the  deficiency  of  our  vocabulary  in 
this  re^^ard,  not  because  we  could  not  form  a  conception  of 
the  colour  without  the  name,  but  because  we  had  found  it 
practically  convenient  to  give  a  name  to  the  conception  we 
had  formed.  The  example  is  a  typical  one ;  it  illustrates 
the  universal  process  of  names-giving,  in  all  its  forms  and  in 
all  ages.  Our  primitive  ancestors  were  not  unable  to  appre- 
hend the  existence  and  office  of  the  earth's  satellite  until 
they  had  devised  for  her  the  appellation  of  '  measurer  ; '  and, 
if  she  had  a  yet  earlier  title,  it  was  given  her  in  like  manner, 
for  some  quality  distinctly  perceived  in  her.  We  always 
make  a  new  word,  or  bestow  unon  an  old  word  a  new  mean- 

'  JL 

iiig,  because  we  have  an  idea  that  wants  a  sign.  To  n)aiu- 
tain  that  the  idea  waits  for  its  generation  until  the  sign  is 
ready,  or  that  the  generation  of  the  idea  and  of  the  sign  is  a 
simple  and  indivisible  process,  is  much  the  same  thing  as  to 
hold,  since  infants  cannot  thrive  in  this  climate  without 
clothinjr  and  shelter,  that  no  child  is  or  can  be  born  until  a 
laijette  and  a  nursery  are  ready  for  its  use,  or  that  along  with 
each  child  are  born  its  swaddling-clothes  and  a  cradle! 

It  must  be  farther  conceded,  then,  timt  the  operations  of 
mind  are  at  least  so  far  indei)endent  of  language  that  thought 
is  able  to  reach  out  in  every  direction  a  stej)  beyond  the  bor- 
der of  speech ;  to  conipier,  bit  by  bit,  new  territory  for 
speech  to  occupy  and  hold  in  possession.  But  our  earlier 
reasonings  and  examples  have  sliov.n  that  there  is  no  small 
deirree  of  inconnuensurabilitv  between  the  two  in  otiier  re- 
spects  also,  that  we  do  not  and  cannot  always  precisely  com- 
municate what  we  are  conscious  of  having  in  our  minds,  and 
that,  of  what  we  call  our  expression,  a  part  consists  merely 
in  so  dis])osing  a  framework  of  words  that  those  who  hear  us 
are  enabh'd  to  infer  much  more  than  we  really  express,  and 
much  more  dehnitcly  than  we  exi)ress  it.  That  we  ordinarily 
think  with  words  may  be  true :   but  I  imagine  that  the  eX' 


I 


XlJ  INDEPENDENT    OF    LANGUAGE.  413 

tent  to  rt^liicli  we  do  so,  and  the  necessity  of  tlie  accompani- 
ment, are  botli  apt  to  be  considerably  exaggerated.  Wben 
we  think  most  elaborately  and  most  reflectively,  then  we 
formulate  our  thoughts  as  if  we  were  speaking  or  writing 
them ;  but  we  need  not  always  think  in  that  style.  If  I 
hold  up  two  sticks  together,  to  see  which  is  the  longer,  my 
comparison  and  conclusion  are  assuredly,  both  of  them,  inde- 
pendent of  any  use  of  language,  spoken  or  conceived  of. 
When  I  taste  a  bit  of  sti^ong  sea-duck,  which  has  been  put 
upon  my  plate  for  mallard,  my  perception  of  its  flavour  and 
my  judgment  that  "  the  bird  is  fishy  "  are  wholly  instan- 
taneous, and  simple  mental  acts :  I  may  then  proceed  to 
state  my  judgment,  either  to  myself  or  to  others,  in  Avhatever 
style  of  elaboration  I  may  choose.  This,  if  I  mistake  not, 
is  the  normal  order  of  procedure  :  the  mental  act  is  moment- 
ary, its  formulation  in  words  occupies  time  ;  we  have  our 
thought  to  start  with,  and  then  (;o  on  to  give  it  deliberate 
expression.  The  operation  of  thinking  in  words  is  a  double 
one ;  it  consists  of  thinking  and  of  putting  the  thought  into 
words  ;  we  conceive  the  thought  and  conceive  also  its  ex- 
pression. That,  when  we  turn  our  attention  full  upon  our 
own  minds,  we  read  there  the  act  and  its  expression  together, 
does  not  necessarily  prove  more  than  the  intimacy  of  the 
association  we  have  established  between  our  conceptions  and 
their  signs,  and  the  power  over  us  of  the  habit  of  expression. 
Every  deliberate  thought,  doubtless,  goes  through  the  mind 
of  the  deaf-mute  accompanied  by  an  image  of  the  dactylic 
writhings  which  would  be  his  natural  mode  of  expressing  it ;  * 
Jbut  his  mental  action  is  not  slavishly  dependent  upon  such 
an  external  auxiliary. 

The  only  way,  in  fact,  to  prove  the  necessary  connection 
and  mutual  limitation  of  thought  and  speech  is  to  lay  down 
such  a  definition  of  the  former  as  excludes  everything  which 

*  Indeed,  T  know  that  the  children  of  a  late  principal  of  the  Hartford 
deaf-and-dumb  asylnm,  who  had  grown  up  in  the  asylum,  and  knew  the  pe- 
culiar language  of  the  inmates  as  familiarly  as  their  Enji^lish,  could  always 
tell  what  their  father  was  thinking  of,  as  he  walked  up  and  down  in  medita- 
tion, by  watching  his  hands  :  his  fingers  involuntarily  formed  the  sitrna 
which  were  associated  in  his  mind  with  his  subjects  of  thought ;  while  at  th« 
same  time,  doubtless,  he  imagined  also  their  spoken  signs 


kl4  MENTAL   ACTION  [lKCT 

is  not  done  hj  means  of  the  latter.  If  thought  is  oiily  that 
kind  of  mental  action  which  is  performed  in  and  through 
Avords,  all  other  being  mere — what  shall  we  call  it  ? — pre- 
liminary and  preparatory  to  thouglit,  the  question  becomes 
simply  a  verbal  one,  and  is  settled.  But  it  were  futile  to 
attempt  thus  to  narrow  the  application  of  the  term.  Appre- 
hension of  generals  and  particulars,  comparison,  distinction, 
infereuce,  performed  under  the  review  of  consciousness, 
capable  of  being  remembered  and  applied  to  direct  the  .con- 
duct of  life — these  are  the  characteristics  of  the  action  of 
mind,  11  every  grade;  where  they  are  present,  there  is  thought. 
And  who  will  dare  to  deny  even  to  the  uninstructed  deaf- 
mute  the  possession  of  ideas,  of  cognitions  multitudinous  and 
various,  of  power  to  combine  observations  and  draw  con- 
clusions from  them,  of  reasonings,  of  imaginings,  of  hopes  ? 
AVho  will  say,  then,  that  he  does  not  think,  though  his 
thinking  faculty  has  not  yet  been  trained  and  developed  by 
the  aid  of  a  system  of  signs  ?  But  neither  can  we  refuse  to 
believe  that  some  of  the  lower  animals  have  a  capacity  of 
thinking,  although  they  are  incapable  of  the  production  of 
any  signs  of  their  ideas  which  we  m.ay  venture  to  dignify  by 
the  name  of  language.  A  dog,  for  instance,  as  surely  ap- 
prehends the  general  ideas  of  a  tree,  a  man,  a  piece  of  meat, 
cold  and  heat,  liglit  and  darkness,  pleasure  and  pain,  kind- 
ness, threatening,  barking,  running,  and  so  on,  through  the 
whole  range,  limited  as  compared  with  ours,  of  matters  within 
his  ken,  as  if  he  had  a  word  for  each.  He  can  as  clearly 
form  the  intention  "  I  mean  to  steal  that  bone,  if  its  owner 
turns  his  back  and  gives  me  a  fair  chance,"  as  if  he  said  it 
to  himself  in  good  English.  He  can  draw  a  complex  of  syl- 
logisms, when  applying  to  present  exigencies  the  results  of 
past  experience,  and  can  determine  ''that  smoking  water 
must  be  hot,  and  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  put  my  foot 
into  it" — that  is  to  »:\y,  "water  that  smokes  is  hot;  this 
water  smokes  ;  therefore,  this  water  is  hot  :  hot  water  hurts  ; 
this  water  is  hot ;  eiyo,  it  will  hurt  my  foot."  He  is,  to  bo 
sure,  far  enough  from  being  able  to  put  his  process  of 
thought  into  that  shape  ;  but  so  is  many  a  iuiman  being  who 
can  not  only  draw  the  conclusion  with  unerring  judgment, 


XI. J  OF  BRUTES  AXD  MUTES.  415 

but  also  state  it  witli  perfect  intelligibility.  That  the  door 
and  many  other  animals  make  no  very  distant  approach  to 
a  capacity  for  language  is  shown  farther  by  their  abilit^'^  to 
understand  and  obey  what  is  said  to  them.  They  are  able  so 
distinctly  to  associate  certain  ideas  with  the  words  we  utter 
as  to  govern  their  actions  accordingly.  Even  the  dull  ox 
knows  which  way  to  turn  when  his  driver  cries  cjee  or  liaw  to 
him  ;  and  the  exceeding  intelligence  with  which  some  dogs 
will  listen  to  directions,  a.nd  even  overhear  conversation,  has 
been  the  subject  of  many  striking  and  authentic  anecdotes. 
It  is  vain  and  needless  to  deny  a  correspondence  up  to  a 
certain  point  between  men  and  other  animals  in  regard  to 
the  phenomena  of  mental  activity,  as  well  as  the  other  phe- 
nomena connected  with  animal  Jife,  like  digestion,  motion,  en- 
joyment and  suffering.  But  their  power  of  thinking  is  not, 
like  ours,  capable  of  free  and  indefinite  development  by  edu- 
cation, whereof  language  is  the  chief  means,  as  it  is  the  sign 
also  of  a  capacity  for  it.  There  is,  it  need  not  be  doubted, 
no  small  difference  between  the  thought  of  the  most  intelli- 
gent of  the  lower  races,  and  that  of  the  least  cultivated 
speechless  huma,n  being.  Yet  what  a  chaos  of  unaualyzed 
conceptions,  undefined  impressions,  and  unreasoned  con- 
clusions the  mind  of  every  one  of  us  would  be  without 
speech,  it  is  well-nigh  impossible  for  us  to  have  even  a  faint 
idea — for  us  who  have  so  long  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  ex- 
pression, and  so  accustomed  ourselves  to  lean  upon  it,  that 
we  can  now  even  differ  and  dispute  as  to  whether  thought 
and  its  instrument  are  not  one  and  the  same  thing.  The 
mental  action  of  the  wholly  wild  and  untrained  man  is  cer- 
tainly less  unlike  to  that  of  the  beast  than  to  that  of  the  man 
who  has  been  educated  by  the  acquisition  and  use  of  lan- 
guage. The  distinction  of  the  two  former  is  m^ainly  that  of 
potentiality ;  they  are  like  the  fecundated  and  the  unfecuu- 
dated  egg  :  the  one  can  develop  into  organized  life  ;  the 
other  cannot.  Let  us  look  at  an  illustration  which  shall  set 
forth  both  their  correspondence  and  their  difference. 

It  has  been  often  remarked  that  the  crow  has  a  capacity  to 
count,  up  to  a  certain  number.  If  two  hunters  enter  a  hut 
and  only  one  comes  out,  he  will  not  be  allured  near  the  place 


415  DIFFERENCE    OF    MENTAL    ACTION  [lECT. 

by  any  bait,  however  tempting ;  the  same  will  be  the  case,  if 
three  enter  and  two  come  out,  or  if  four  enter  and  three 
come  out — and  so  on,  till  a  number  is  reached  which  is  be- 
yond his  arithmetic ;  till  he  cannot  perceive  that  one  has 
boon  left  behind,  and  so  is  led  to  venture  within  reach  of  the 
Iddden  <j;un,  to  his  destruction.  Something  very  like  this  would 
be  true  of  men,  v/ithout  language.  Open  for  the  briefest 
instimt  a  hand  with  one  corn  in  it,  and  then  again  with  two, 
and  any  one  who  has  an  eye  can  tell  the  difference;  so  with 
two  and  three,  with  three  and  four — and  so  on,  up  to  a  limit 
which  may  vary  with  the  quickness  of  eye  and  readiness  of 
thought  of  the  counter,  results  of  his  natural  capacity  or  of 
his  training,  but  which  is  surely  reached,  and  soon.  Open 
the  hand,  for  instance,  with  twenty  corns,  then  drop  one 
secretly  and  open  it  again,  and  the  surest  eye  that  ever 
looked  could  not  detect  the  loss.  Or  put  near  one  another 
two  piles  or  rows,  one  of  nineteen,  the  other  of  twenty,  and 
it  would  be  not  less  impracticable  to  distinguish  them  by  im- 
mediate apprehension.  But  here  appears  the  discordance 
between  the  human  mind  and  tliat  of  the  brute.  The  crow 
would  never  find  out  that  the  heap  of  twenty  is  greater  than 
that  of  nineteen  ;  the  man  does  it  without  difficulty  :  he 
analyzes  or  breaks  up  both  into  parts,  say  of  four  corns  each, 
the  numerical  value  of  which  he  can  immediately  apprehend, 
as  well  as  their  number  ;  and  he  at  last  finds  a  couple  of 
parts,  Avhereof  both  he  and  the  crow  could  see  that  the  one 
exceeds  the  other. 

In  this  power  of  detailed  review,  analysis,  and  comparison, 
now,  lies,  as  I  conceive,  the  first  fundamental  trait  of  superi- 
orityof  man's  endowment.  But  this  is  not  all.  This  would 
merely  amount  to  a  great  and  valuable  extension  of  the 
limits  of  immediate  apprehension  ;  whereas  the  crow  knows 
well  that  three  corns  are  more  than  two  corns,  man  would, 
be  able  also  to  satisfy  himself,in  every  actual  casewhich  should 
arise,  that  twenty  corns  are  more  than  nineteen  corns;  oi*  a 
hundred  corns  than  ninety-nine  corns  ;  and  he  would  be 
a!)le  to  make  an  intelligent  choice  of  the  larger  heap  where 
a  crow  might  cheat  himself  through  ignorance.  So  much  is 
possible  without  language,  nor  would  it  alone  ever  lead  to 


XI.]  IN  MEN  AND  OTHER  ANIMALS.  417 

tlie  possession  of  language.  In  order  to  this,  anotlit^.T  kind 
of  analysis  is  necessary,  an  analysis  which  separates  the 
qualities  of  a  thing  from  the  thiug  itself,  and  coiitemplatea 
them  apart.  The  man,  in  short,  is  able  to  perceive,  not  only 
that  three  corns  are  more  than  two  corns,  but  that  three  are 
more  than  two — a  thing  that  the  bird  neither  does  nor  can 
do.  Such  a  perception  makes  language  possible — for  lan- 
guage-making is  a  naming  of  the  properties  of  things,  and  of 
things  themselves  through  those  properties — and,  combined 
with  the  other  power  which  we  have  just  noticed,  it  creates 
the  possibility  also  of  an  indefinite  progression  in  thinking 
and  reasoning  by  means  of  language.  Signs  being  found  for 
the  conceptions  '  one,'  '  two,'  '  three,'  and  so  on,  we  can  pro- 
ceed to  build  them  up  into  any  higher  aggregate  that  we 
choose,  following  each  step  of  combination  by  a  sign,  and 
with  that  sign  associating  the  result  of  the  process  that 
made  it,  so  as  to  be  effectually  relieved  of  the  necessity  of 
performing  the  process  over  again  in  each  new  case.  Thus, 
from  the  recognition  that  three  is  more  than  two,  that  two 
and  one  are  three,  that  twice  two  is  four — all  which  truths 
are  virtually  within  reach  of  the  crow,  since  he  w^ould  deter- 
mine aright  any  practical  question  that  involved  them — we 
rise  to  the  recognition  that  twenty  is  more  than  nineteen, 
that  fifteen  and  five  are  twenty,  that  seven  times  seven  are 
forty-nine,  or  ten  times  ten  are  a  hundred :  and  these  are 
truths  which  we  could  only  reach  by  means  of  language ; 
they  are  inferences,  circuitously  arrived  at,  and  made  by 
means  of  language  not  less  manageable  than  the  simpler 
truths  which  are  matters  of  direct  synthetic  apprehension. 
He  who,  having  learned  only  to  count,  constructs  for  his  own 
use  a  multiplication-table,  has  to  work  onward  from  step  to 
step  in  somewhat  the  same  way  as  he  who  has  no  speech ; 
but  every  product  that  he  attains  and  fixes  in  memory  with 
its  factors,  is  an  acquisition  made  once  for  all.  Indefinite 
progress  is  thus  ushered  in  ;  every  new  result  of  mathemati- 
cal reasoning  is  rendered  capable  of  being  handled,  and  the 
whole  career  of  mathematical  science  is  initiated.  Yet  not 
to  be  carried  on  by  words  alone.  The  most  skilful  mathema- 
tician cannot  perform  any  of  the  more  complicated  processes 

27 


418  AID    GIVEN    BY  [lECT. 

of  calculation  ^^itll  sjnjns  merely  uttered  or  conceived  of  aa 
uttered ;  he  must  write  down  his  equations  and  series,  and 
•work  out  painfully,  in  long  rows  of  figures,  his  numerical  re- 
sults:  for,  though  all  was  implied  in  his  first  assumption,  as 
evolved  according  to  the  unvarying  relations  of  numbers, 
and  the  principles  of  mathematical  reasoning,  he  is  unable  to 
grasp  the  various  quantities  with  his  mind,  and  to  follow  out 
unerringly  the  successive  steps  of  the  processes,  without  re- 
cording each  as  he  takes  it.  It  is  none  the  less  true,  how- 
ever, that  the  whole  work  is  a  mental  one  :  mathematical 
quantities  are  identical  neither  with  the  written  figures  and 
symbols,  nor  with  the  spoken  signs  ;  nor  is  mathematical 
reasoning  dependent  for  its  existence  upon  the  one  or  the 
other:  both  are  kindred  instrumentalities,  whereby  the  mind 
is  enabled  to  accomplish  what  would  otherwise  be  wholly 
beyond  its  power. 

The  main  truths  which  we  have  to  accept  as  touching  the 
relation  of  language  to  thought  are,  I  think,  brought  out  by 
this  illustration.      It  is,  indeed,  an  extreme  illustration  on 
the  side  of  the  indispensability  of  language.      For  no  other 
class   of  conceptions    are   so   eminently  abstract  as   are   the 
mathematical,  none  so  wholly  dependent  upon   spoken   and 
-written  signs  and  symbols.     They  are  so  essentially  ideal  iu 
their  character,  so  divorcible  from  concrete  objects,  that  tliey 
can  be  worked  wnth  mechanically,  can  be  put  together  and 
taken  apart  without  constant  reference  to  real  conditions — 
though    only    according    to    rules   and   methods    ultimately 
founded  on  concrete  exemplification,  on  immediate  synthetic 
appreb.ensions  which  are  capable  of  being  grasped  by  minds 
louver  than  human.      Yet,  even   here,  the   signs   are   merely 
the  instruments  of  thought,  and  created  by  it.      The  symbols 
of  the  calculus  are  not  more  truly  the  device  of  the  master- 
minds which,  exalted  upon  the  vantage-ground  of  their  own 
and  others'  previous  studies,  apprehended  the   higher  and 
more    recondite    relations    involved    in    this    new    mode    of 
mathematical    reasoning,   than    the   whole   nomenclature    of 
numbers  is  the  gradually  elaborated  work  of  men  who  saw 
and  felt  impelled  to  signify  the  simpler  aiul  more  fundamental 
relations,  those  which  seem  to  lie  within  the  reach  of  every 


XI. J  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT.  419 

intellect.  That,  liOT^ever,  they  are  not  so  easily  attained, 
that  not  a  little  time  and  reflection,  and  some  special  insight, 
were  required  for  generating  even  an  ordinary  system  of 
numeration,  is  clearly  shown  by  the  facts  of  language.  There 
are  dialects  that  name  no  higher  numbers  than  '  three '  or 
'  four  : '  all  beyond  is  an  undistinguished  "  many,"  the  definito 
relations  of  which  are  as  unmanageable  by  the  speakers  of 
those  dialects  as  if  they  were  speechless.  Many  others  have 
not  risen  to  the  apprehension  of  a  hundred ;  the  Indo- 
European  race,  before  its  dispersion,  had  apparently  formed 
no  word  for  '  thousand ; '  the  Greek  popular  mind  had  dis- 
tinctly conceived  no  higher  group  than  '  ten  thousand ' 
{miiriad) .  We  have  ourselves  given  names  only  to  a  few  of 
the  first  numbers  in  that  infinite  series  which,  having  once 
hit  upon  the  metliod  of  decimal  multiplication  and  notation, 
we  are  capable  of  apprehending  and  of  managing.  And 
what  more  significant  mark  of  the  externality  of  the  whole 
system  of  numerical  names  and  signs  could  we  ask  to  find 
than  its  decimal  character,  which,  as  every  one  knows,  is 
altogether  based  upon  the  wholly  irrelevant  circumstance  of 
the  number  of  our  fingers,  those  ready  aids  to  an  unready 
reckoner  ?  Had  we  chanced  to  possess  six  digits  on  each 
hand,  our  series  of  arithmetical  "  digits "  would  also  be 
twelve,  and  we  should  now  be  rejoicing  in  the  use  of  a 
duodecimal  system — the  superior  advantages  of  which  in 
many  respects  are  generally  acknowledged. 

In  every  department  of  thought,  the  mind  derives  from 
the  possession  of  speech  something  of  the  same  advantaj^e, 
and  in  the  same  way,  as  in  mathematical  reasoning.  The 
idea  which  has  found  its  incarnation  in  a  word  becomes 
thereby  a  subject  of  clearer  apprehension  and  more  manage- 
able use :  it  can  be  turned  over,  compared,  limited,  placed  in 
distinct  connection  with  other  ideas ;  more  tlian  one  mind, 
more  than  one  generation  of  minds,  can  work  at  it,  giving  it 
shape,  and  relation,  and  significance.  In  every  word  is 
recorded  the  result  of  a  mental  process,  of  absti'action  or  of 
combination ;  which  process,  being  thus  recorded,  can  be 
taught  along  with  its  sign,  or  its  result  can  be  used  as  a  step 
to  something  higher  or  deeper.     There  are  grades  of  thoight, 

27  • 


420  AID    GIVEN    BY  [LECt. 

spheres  oi  ratiocination,  wliere  our  minds  could  hardly  work 
at  all  without  the  direct  aid  of  language ;  as  there  are  also 
those  where  they  could  not  surely  hold  and  follow  the  chain 
of  reason  and  deduction  without  the  still  further  assistance 
afforded  by  writing  down,  the  argument.  It  may  be  freely 
conceded  that  such  mental  processes  ae  we  are  in  the  coiistant 
habit  of  performing  would  be  too  difficult  for  us  to  compass 
without  words — as  they  certainly  also  lie  far  beyond  what 
would  have  been  our  mental  reach  had  we  not  been  trained 
through  the  use  of  language  to  orderly  thought,  and  enriched 
with  the  wealth  of  mental  acquisitions  accumulated  by  our 
predecessors  and  stored  up  in  words.  But  this  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  acknowledging  that  thought  is  impossible 
without  language.  So,  also,  to  build  steam-engines  and 
tubular-bridges,  to  weave  satins  and  Brussels  carpets,  to 
tunnel  mountains,  to  fill  up  valleys,  is  impossible  witliout  tho 
aid  of  complicated  and  powerful  machinery ;  yet  we  do  not 
on  that  account  deny  all  power  and  efficiency  to  the  bare 
human  hands.  On  the  contrary,  we  see  clearly  tliat  machin- 
ery is,  in  every  part  and  parcel,  ultimately  the  work  of 
human  hands,  v^  hich  can  do  wondrous  things  without  it,  if 
still  more  wondrous  with  it.  Language,  in  like  manner,  is 
the  instrument  of  thought,  the  machinery  with  which  the 
mind  works;  an  instrument  by  which  its  capacity  to  achieve 
valuable  results  is  indefinitely  increased,  but  which,  far  from 
being  identical  with  it,  is  one  of  its  own  products  ;  with  and 
by  which  it  works  with  freedom,  depending  upon  it  now 
more,  now  less,  according  to  circumstances — as  the  matter  in 
hand,  the  style  of  elaboration,  the  deliberation  required  or 
l)ermitted ;  and  fully  able  to  carry  on  the  same  operations 
with  instrumentalities  greatly  diftering  in  completeness  and 
inherent  adaptation  to  their  purpose. 

Our  conclusion  stands  fast,  tlien,  that  thought  is  anterior 
to  language,  and  independent  of  it ;  it  is  not  compelled  to 
find  expression  in  order  to  be  thought.  The  immense  and 
incalculable  advantage  which  it  gains  from  its  command  of 
Bpcech  is  something  incidental :  something  intended,  indeed, 
and  a  necessary  implication  in  the  gift  of  speech  to  the 
human  race  ;  yet  coming  as  a  consequence  of  something  else, 


XI.]   ^  LANGUAGE  TO  THOUGHT.  421 

growing  out  of  that  communication  which  men  must  and  will 
have  with  their  fellows.  True  it  is  that  the  individual  mind^ 
without  language,  would  be  a  dwarfed  and  comparatively 
powerless  organ :  but  this  means  simply  that  man  could 
develop  his  powers,  and  become  what  he  was  meant  to  be, 
only  in  society,  by  converse  with  his  fellows.  He  is  by  hia 
essential  nature  a  social  being,  and  his  most  precious  indi- 
vidual possession,  his  speech,  he  gets  only  as  a  social  beinf* 
The  historical  beginnings  of  speech,  therefore,  were  no  spoi 
taneous  outbursts^  realizing  to  the  mind  of  the  utterer  the 
conceptions  with  which  he  was  swelling ;  they  were  success- 
ful results  of  the  endeavour  to  arrive  at  signs  by  which 
those  conceptions  should  be  called  up  also  in  the  minds  of 
others. 

These  considerations,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  will  be  found 
to  relieve  the  remaining  part  of  the  problem  we  are  con- 
sidering of  not  a  little  of  its  perplexity.  Recognizing  the 
external  and  non-essential  nature  of  the  bond  which  unites 
every  constituent  of  language  to  the  idea  represented  by  it, 
and  also  the  external  nature  of  the  force  which  brings  about 
the  genesis  of  the  sign,  we  are  enabled  to  reduce  the  inquiry 
to  this  form :  how  should  the  first  language-makers,  human 
beings  gifted  like  ourselves,  with  no  exceptional  endowments, 
but  witii  no  disabilities  other  than  that  of  the  non-develop- 
ment of  their  inherent  capacities,  have  naturally  succeeded 
in  arriving  at  the  possession  of  signs  by  which  they  could 
understand  one  another  ?  Before  we  take  up  and  examine 
the  theories  which  have  been  proposed  to  explain  the  first 
processes  of  sign-making,  however,  we  must  look  for  a 
moment  at  one  or  two  preliminary  points,  of  a  more  general 
character.  « 

Our  first  point  concerns  the  office  of  the  voice  as  instru- 
ment of  expression.  If  the  tie  between  idea  and  sign  be  so 
loose,  it  may  be  asked,  why  is  the  sign  always  a  spoken  one, 
and  language,  as  we  use  the  term,  a  body  solely  of  articulated 
utterances  ?  In  answering  this,  it  is  sufficient  to  point  out 
the  superior  convenience  and  availability  of  spoken  signs,  as 
compared  with  those  of  any  other  kind.  These  qualities, 
aud  these  alone,  designate  the  voice  to  its  office.     There  is 


422  THE    VOICE   AS  [LEOT, 

no  necessary  connection  between  mental  acts  and  vocal 
utterances.  The  one  thing  neces:sary  is,  that  thought,  tend- 
ing irresistibly  toward  expression  under  the  impulse  to  com^ 
munication,  should  find  the  means  of  intelligibly  expressing 
itself.  With  the  jnental  powers  and  social  tendencies  which 
men  have,  they  would,  even  if  unendowed  with  voice,  have 
nevertheless  put  themselves  in  possession  of  language — lan- 
guage less  perfect  and  manageable,  to  be  sure,  than  is  our 
present  speech  ;  but  still,  real  language.  Resort,  doubtless, 
would  first  have  been  had  to  gesture ;  it  is  hardly  less 
natural  to  men  to  use  their  hands  than  their  tongues  to  help 
the  communication  of  their  ideas  ;  the  postures  of  the  body, 
the  movements  of  the  face,  can  be  made  full  of  significance ; 
the  resources  of  pantomime  are  various  and  abundant,  and 
constitute  a  means  of  expression  often  successfidly  employed, 
between  those  who  ai'e  unacquainted  with  the  conventional 
signs  of  one  another's  spoken  language.  Those  human 
beings  whose  vocal  powers  are  rendered  useless  by  the  dead- 
nese  of  tlieir  ears  learn  a  pantomimic  language  which  answers 
their  needs,  both  of  communication  and  of  mental  training, 
in  no  stinted  measure.  It  has,  indeed,  its  limitations  and 
defects;  but  what  it  might  be  made,  if  it  were  the  only 
means  of  communication  attainable  by  men,  and  were 
elaborated  by  the  consenting  labour  of  generations,  as  spoken 
speech  has  been,  we  perhaps  are  slow  to  realize.  I  do  not 
doubt  that  it  might  far  exceed,  both  in  wealth  of  resources 
and  in  distinct  apprehensibility,  many  an  existing  spoken 
language,  might  ally  itself  with  a  mode  of  writing,  and 
become  an  efiicient  means  and  aid  of  human  progress.  How 
easy  a  language  of  gestures  is  to  acquire,  and  how  natural  to 
use,  is  clearly  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  fully  endowed 
children  of  the  instructors  in  deaf-ajul-dumb  asylums, 
brought  up  among  thoi^e  who  employ  both  it  and  the  spoken  • 
tongue,  are  accustomed  to  learn  the  former  first,  and  to  avail 
themselves  of  it  in  preference  to  the  other,  till  long  after  the 
time  when  other  children  usually  talk  freely.  It  is  past  all 
reasonable  question  that,  in  the  earliest  communication 
between  human  beings,  gesture  long  played  a  considerable, 
if  not  the  principal,  part,  and  that  our  race  learned  only  by 


XI.]  INSTRUMENT    OF   EXPRESSION.  423 

degrees  tte  superior  capacities  of  spoken  signs,  and  by 
degrees  worked  them  out  to  a  sufficiency  for  all  the  ordinary 
needs  of  expression;  when  gesture  was  relegated  to  the  depart- 
ment of  rhetoric,  to  the  office  of  giving  individual  colouring 
and  intensity  to  intellectual  expression — as,  in  all  well- 
developed  languages,  has  been  the  case  with  tone  ahso.  We 
do  not  need  to  enter  here  into  any  detailed  inquiry  as  to  the 
modes  and  reasons  of  the  special  adaptedness  of  vocal  utter- 
ance to  the  uses  of  expression.  The  fact  is  palpable,  recog- 
nized by  every  mind,  and  illustrated  by  the  whole  history  of 
human  communication.  We  feel  that  those  who  learn  to 
talk  well  without  speaking  are  to  be  compared  with  the 
mutilated  beings  who,  deprived  of  hands,  learn  to  make  their 
feet  do  the  ordinary  and  natural  work  of  hands.  Many  of 
us  have  seen  toys  constructed,  figures  cut  out,  pictures 
painted  by  such  beings,  with  the  help  of  instruments  grasped 
by  the  toes,  which  we  who  possess  the  most  supple  of  fingers 
might  try  in  vain  to  imitate  :  and  in  the  possibility  of  such 
things  we  note  the  controlling  power  of  the  true  actor,  the 
human  mind  and  soul,  which,  in  the  direction  of  its  special 
gifts,  can  work  out  beautiful  and  wonderful  results  with 
instrumentalities  that  appear  to  us  awkward,  feeble,  and 
inefficient.  The  voice,  the  articulating  power,  was  the 
appointed  and  provided  means  of  supplying  the  chief  want 
of  man's  social  nature,  language  ;  and  no  race  of  men  fails 
to  show,  by  its  possession  of  articulate  speech,  that  the  pro- 
vision was  one  natural,  recognizable,  and  sufficient. 

Our  second  point  concerns  the  general  class  of  ideas 
which  should  have  first  found  incorporation  in  speech. 
What  we  are  brought  by  our  historical  analysis  of  language 
to  recognize  as  the  beginnings  of  speech  was  set  forth  in  the 
seventh  lecture.  Eoots,  directly  significant  of  quality  or 
action,  were  there  shown  to  be  the  starting-points,  the  germs, 
of  our  whole  vast  system  of  nomenclature,  for  qualities, 
beings,  and  relations.  Many  minds,  however,  find  a  difficulty 
in  accepting  such  a  result.  They  are  unwilliug  to  believe 
that  language  can  have  begun  with  the  expression  of  any- 
thing so  abstract  as  a  quality  ;  they  feel  as  if  the  first  words 
must  have  been  designations  for  concrete  things,  for  the 


424  ACTS   AND   QUA-LITIFS  'LBv/f. 

familiar  objects  oi  primitive  life.     The  source  of  their  diffi- 
culty lies  in  the  ftict  that  they  would  confound  the  prima 
denomiiiata,  the  things  first  named,  with   the  prima  corjniia^ 
the  things  first   cognized,  apprehended  by  the  mind,  either 
as  individuals  or  as  classes.     In  truth,  however,  the  two  are 
quite  distinct.     It  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  concrete  things 
are   first    recognized,    distinguished,   and    classified,    in    the 
earliest  synthetic  operations  of  the  intelligence  ;  so  are  they 
also  in  the  inferior  intelligences  of  the  lower  animals ;  but 
these   synthetic   cognitions    do   not    and   cannot  lead  to  lan- 
guage.     Language  begins  with  analysis,  and  the  apprehen- 
sion of  characteristic   qualities.      Not   what    the    mind   first 
consciously  contemplated,  but  what  was  most  readily  capa-j 
ble  of  being  intelligibly  signified,   determined   the   earliest' 
words.      Now  a  concrete  object,  a  complex  existence,  is  just 
as   mucb   out  of  the  immediate   reach   of   the  sign-making 
faculty  as   is  a  moral  act   or   an  intellectual  relation.     As, 
duriu"-  the   whole    history  of  language,  designations  of  the 
latter  classes  of  ideas  have  been  arrived  at  through  the  me- 
dium of  names  for  physical  acts  and  relations,  so  have  appel-  ^ 
lations  for  the  former  been  won  by  means  of  their  perceived 
characteristics.      No  etymologist  feels  that  he  has  traced  out 
the  history  of  any  concrete  appellation  till  he  has  carried  it  \ 
back  to  a  word  expressive  of  quality.      AVe  saw  in  the  third 
lecture   that,  when  we  would   make  a  name  for  a  thing,  we 
have  recourse  always  to  its  qualities  ;  we  take  some  general  \ 
word  designating  one  of  its   distinguishing   properties,  and 
limit  it  to  signifying  the  thing  itself  (as  when  we  derived  '. 
hoard  from   broad,  moon  from  measuring,  smith  from  smooth'  i 
ing)  ;  or  else  we  identity  by  some  common  property  or  pro- 
perties, or  connect  by  some  other  equivalent  tie  of  association,  j 
tlie  thing  to  be  named  with  another  thing  already  named, J 
and  call  it  by  the  latter's  title  (as  in  deriving  Jupiter's  moon9\ 
fi'om   moon,  Board  of  Trade  from  board,  Smiths  from   smith). 
Let  any  om.  of  us,  even  now,  after  all  our  long  training  iu 
the  expression  of  our  conceptions,  attempt  to  convey  to  an-: 
other  person   his   idea   of  some   sensible   thing,  and  he  will " 
inevitably  find  himself  reviewing  its  distinctive  qualities,  and 


XI.]  THE    FIRST   THINGS   KAMED.  425 

selecting  tbose  which  lie  shall  intimate,  bj  su(,'h  signs  as  he 
can  make  intelligible  :  there  is  no  other  way  in  which  we 
can  make  a  definition  or  description,  whether  for  our  own 
use  or  for  that  of  anybody  else.  If,  for  example,  a  dog  is 
the  subject  of  our  effort,  we  compare  our  conception  of  him 
with  those  of  other  sensible  objects,  and  note  its  specific  dif- 
ferences— as  his  animality,  shape,  size,  disposition,  voice. 
This  is  so  essentially  a  human  procedure  that  we  cannot  con- 
ceive of  the  first  makers  of  language  as  following  any  other. 
Then,  in  finding  a  designation,  it  would  be  impossible  to  in- 
clude and  body  forth  together  the  sum  of  observed  qualities  : 
in  the  first  instance,  not  less  than  in  all  after  time,  some  one 
among  them  would  necessarily  be  made  the  ground  of  appel- 
lation. The  sign  produced  would  naturally  vary  with  the 
instrumentality  used  to  produce  it,  and  the  sense  to  which  ib 
was  addressed :  in  the  instance  w^hich  we  have  supposed,  if 
the  means  of  communication  were  writing,  it  would  probably 
be  the  outline  figure  of  a  dog ;  if  gesture,  an  imitation  of 
some  characteristic  visible  act,  like  biting,  or  wagging  the 
tail ;  if  the  voice,  not  less  evidently  an  imitation  of  the 
audible  act  of  barking :  the  dog's  primal  designation  would 
be  boiv-ivow,  or  something  equivalent  to  it.  But  in  this 
designation  would  be  directly  intimated  the  act ;  the  actor 
would  be  su Ingested  by  implication  merely  :  how-wow,  as  name 
for  '  dog,'  would  literally  mean  '  the  animal  that  how-wows.^ 
So  in  the  ciise  of  a  word  like  splash,  used  to  imitate  and  call 
up  before  t!ie  m.ind  the  fall  of  a  stone  into  water — the  col- 
lision of  the  stone  and  the  water  would  be  the  immediate 
suo^cjestion  ;  but  a  natural  act  of  association  mijxht  make  the 
sign  mean  the  stone,  or  the  water,  or  the  act  of  throwing,  or 
the  fall.  One  sign  would  turn  more  readily  to  the  desig- 
nation of  a  property  or  action,  another  to  that  of  a  concrete 
thing,  an  actor,  according  to  the  nature  of  each,  and  the 
exigencies  of  practical  use  as  regarded  it ;  but  both  would 
be  inherently  a  kind  of  indifferent  middle,  capable  of  con- 
version to  either  purpose  :  and,  in  the  poverty  of  expression 
and  indistinctness  of  analysis  belonging  to  the  primitive  stage 
of  linguistic  growth,  would  doubtless  bear  various  offices  at 


426  THEORIES    OF    THE  [LECT. 

oiK'O.  In  shortj  ttey  would  be  eucli  rudiments  of  speech, 
rather  than  parts  of  speech,  as  we  have  already  found  the 
radical  elements  of  lanjjuase  to  be. 

Thus  we  see  that  the  necessary  conditions  of  the  act  of  pro- 
duction of  our  language,  as  being  the  creation  of  a  spoken 
sign  for  mutual  intelligence  between  speaker  and  hearer,  de--* 
termine  the  kind  of  significance  belonging  to  the  first  pro- 
duced words.  An  acted  sign,  and  a  language  of  such,  would 
have  been  of  the  same  quality.  While,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  language  of  written  characters,  beginning  with  pictorial 
signs,  would  be  of  a  very  different  structure  :  its  first  words 
would  be  designations  of  concrete  sensible  objects — since 
drawings  are  fitted  to  suggest  concrete  objects  rather  than 
their  individual  qualities — and,  from  these,  designations  of 
qualities  woulJ  have  to  be  arrived  at  by  secondary  processes. 

Our  reasonings  have  now  at  length  brought  us  very  near 
to  a  positive  conclusion  respecting  the  mode  of  genesis  of 
even  the  first  beginnings  of  spoken  speech.  But,  rather 
than  follow  them  farther,  to  a  yet  more  definite  result,  we 
Avill  proceed  to  examine  the  various  theories  that  have  been 
framed  to  explain  how  men  should  have  found  out  what  their 
voice  was  given  them  for,  and  should  have  begun  to  apply  it 
to  its  proper  uses,  producing  with  it  significant  words. 

Of  such  theories  there  are  three  which  are  especially 
worthy  of  note.  The  first  holds  that  the  earliest  names  of 
objects  and  actions  were  produced  by  imitation  of  natural 
sounds  :  animals,  for  instance,  were  denominated  from  their 
characteristic  utterances,  as,  with  us,  the  cuckoo  is  so  named  : 
the  dog  was  called  a  low-wow^  the  sheep  a  haa,  the  cow  a 
moo,  and  so  on  ;  while  the  many  noises  of  inanimate  nature, 
as  the  whistling  of  the  wind,  the  rustling  of  leaves,  the  gurg- 
ling and  splashing  of  water,  the  cracking  and  crashing  of 
heavy  falling  objects,  suggested  in  like  manner  imitative 
utterances  which  were  applied  to  designate  them  ;  and  that 
by  sucli  means  a  sufficient  store  of  radical  words  was  origin- 
ated to  serve  as  the  germs  of  language.  This  is  called  tlie 
onomatopoetic  theory.  The  second  is  to  this  effect :  that  the 
natural  sounds  which  we  utter  when  in  a  state  of  excited 
feeling,  the  oh's  and  ah's,  i\ie  ^oolis  and  ^i/i air'*,  are  the  uhi- 


XI.]  ORIGIN    OF    LANGUAGE.  427 

mate  begiiiGings  of  speech.  This  is  styled  the  interjevvtlonal 
theory.  A  recent  writer  of  <(reat  popularity,  Professor  Max 
Miiller,*  ent-^rely  rejects  both  these,  stigmatiziog  them  as 
"  the  bow-wotv  theory  "  and  "  the  pooh-pooh  theory"  respect- 
ively, and  adopts  from  a  Grerman  authority  (Professor  Ilcyse, 
of  Berlin)  a  third,  which  is,  abridged  frum  his  own  statemeut, 
IS  follows  :  "  There  is  a  law  which  runs  through  nearly  the 
whole  of  nature,  that  everything  which  is  struck  rings. 
Each  substance  has  its  peculiar  ring.  ...  It  was  the  same 
with  man,  the  most  highly  organized  of  nature's  works  " — 
and  so  on.  Man  possessed  an  instinctive  "  faculty  for  giv- 
ing articulate  expression  to  the  rational  conceptions  of  his 
mind."  But  "  this  creative  faculty,  which  gave  to  each  con- 
ception, as  it  thrilled  for  the  first  time  through  the  brain,  a 
phonetic  expression,  became  extinct  when  its  object  was  ful- 
filled," etc.  This,  in  its  turn,  has  been  very  appositely 
termed  "  the  ding-dong  theory." 

What  value  we  have  to  attribute  to  these  various  theories 
is  readily  to  be  inferred  from  the  principles  already  laid  down 
and  established.  Tbe  third  may  be  very  summarily  dis- 
missed, as  wholly  unfounded  and  worthless.  It  is,  indeed, 
not  a  little  surprising  to  see  a  man  of  the  acknowledged 
ability  and  great  leaj'ning  of  Professor  Miiller,  after  depre- 
ciating and  casting  ridicule  upon  the  views  of  others  respect- 
ing so  important  a  point,  put  forward  one  of  his  own  as  a 
mere  authoritative  dictum,  resting  it  upon  nothing  better 
than  a  fanciful  comparison  which  lacks  every  element  of  a 
true  analogy,  not  venturing  to  attempt  its  support  by  a 
single  argument,  instance,  or  illustration,  drawni  from  either 
the  nature  or  the  history  of  language.  He  tells  us,  virtually, 
that  man  was  at  the  outset  a  kind  of  bell ;  and  that,  when 
an  idea  struck  him,  he  naturally  rang.  We  wonder  it  was  not 
added  that,  like  other  bells,  he  naturally  rang  by  the  tongue: 
this  would  have  been  quite  in  keeping  w^ith  the  rest,  and 
would  merely  have  set  more  plainly  before  our  minds  the 
real  character  of  the  whole  theory.  It  fully  implies  the 
doctrine,  which  we  have  shown  above  to  be  erroneous,  that 

•  In  Ms  Lectures  on  the  Science  of  Language,  first  series,  last  lecture. 


428  THE  *' ding-dong"  theory.  [lect. 

thought  tends  to  burst  into  expression  by  an  internal 
impulse,  instead  of  under  an  external  inducement ;  and  with 
this  it  couples  the  gratuitous  assumption  that  the  impulse 
ceased  to  act  when  a  first  start  had  thus  been  given  to  the 
-5  development  of  human  speech.  In  effect,  it  explains  the 
origin  of  language  by  a  miracle,  a  special  and  exceptional 
capacity  having  been  conferred  for  the  purpose  upon  the 
first  men,  and  withdrawn  again  from  their  descendants. 
Tlie  formation  of  language  is  never  over  in  any  such  manner 
as  should  release  an  instinct  like  this  from  farther  service,  if 
it  really  existed  in  human  nature.  New  cognitions  and 
deductions  still  thrill  through  the  brains  of  men,  yet  without 
setting  their  tongues  swinging,  any  more  than  their  fingers 
working.  In  all  our  investigations  of  language,  we  find 
nothing  which  should  lead  us  to  surmise  that  an  intellectual 
apprehension  could  ever,  by  an  internal  process,  become 
transmuted  into  an  articulated  sound  or  complex  of  sounds. 
We  do,  indeed,  see  that  what  strongly  afiects  the  emotional 
nature  prompts  utterance,  as  it  also  prompts  gesture :  fear, 
surprise,  joy,  lead  to  exclamations ;  and  delight  at  a  new 
cognition  might  find  vent  in  an  interjection ;  but  this  inter- 
jection would  express  the  delight,  not  the  cognition  ;  if  lan- 
guage commenced  in  such  a  way,  the  historical  beginnings^ 
of  speech  would  be  names  of  emotions,  not  of  the  qualities  of 
objects. 

The  fatal  weakness  of  such  attempts  as  this  to  explain  the 
earliest  steps  in  the  formation  of  language  lies  in  the  fact 
that  they  would  fain  discover  there  some  force  at  work 
diftering  entirely  from  that  which  directs  the  whole  after- 
course  of  linguistic  development.  "We,  on  the  contrary, 
having  fully  recognized  the  truth  that  all  language-making, 
through  the  long  recorded  periods  of  linguistic  history,  con- 
sists in  a  succession  of  attempts  to  find  an  intelligible  sign  for 
a  conception  which  the  mind  has  formed  and  desires  to  com-j 
municate,  must  look  to  find  the  same  principle  operative  alsa" 
at  the  very  outset  of  that  history. 

Kegarding  the  matter  in  this  light,  we  shall  not  fail  to  see  * 
clearly  what  and  how  much  value  we  are  to  ascribe  to  the  ; 
other  two  theories,  the  onomatopootic  and  the  interjectional. 


I 


XI.]  THE    IMITATIVE    THEORY.  429 

EacTi  of  theili  furnislies  a  good  and  sufficient  explanation  of 
a  part  of  the  facts  for  whicli  we  are  seeking  to  account, 
since  each  suggests  available  means  by  which  the  first 
speakers  should  have  arrived  at  mutually  intelligible  signs. 
Especially  great  and  undeniable  are  the  capabilities  of  the  ono- 
matopoetic  principle.  We  saw  in  one  of  our  recent  illustra~ 
tions  that,  since  qualities  or  acts  are  the  immediate  objects 
of  the  first  designations,  and  since  the  voice  is  the  appointed 
means  of  designating,  audible  acts,  utterances  or  accompany- 
ing noises,  would  be  most  naturally  chosen  to  be  designated. 
That  words  have  been  and  may  be  formed  through  the 
medium  of  imitation  of  natural  sounds  is  palpably  true  ; 
every  language  has  such  to  show  in  its  vocabulary.  That, 
for  example,  an  animal  can  be  named  from  its  cry,  and  the 
name  thus  given  generalized  and  made  fertile  of  derivatives, 
is  sho\NTi  by  such  a  word  as  coch,  which  is  regarded  by  ety- 
mologists as  an  abbreviated  imitation  of  chanticleer's  cocJc-a- 
doodle-doo  !  and  from  which  come,  by  allusion  to  the  bird's 
pride  and  strut,  the  words  coquette,  cockade,  the  cocJc  of 
a  gun,  to  coch  one's  eye,  to  each  the  head  on  one  side,  a 
cocked  hat,  and  so  on.  y  Through  all  the  stages  of  growth  of 
language,  absolutely  new  words  are  produced  by  this  method 
more  than  by  any  other,  or  even  almost  exclusively ;  there  is 
also  to  be  seen  an  evident  disposition  to  give  an  imitative 
complexion  to  words  which  denote  matters  cognizable  by 
the  ear ;  the  mind  pleases  itself  with  bringing  about  a  sort 
of  agreement  between  the  sign  and  the  thing  signified 
Both  theory  and  observed  fact,  therefore,  unite  to  prove  the 
imitative  principle  more  actively  productive  than  any  other 
in  the  earliest  processes  of  language-making.  But  neither 
is  a  noteworthy  degree  of  importance  to  be  denied  to  the 
exclamatory  or  interj  ectional  principle.  It  is,  beyond  all 
question,  as  natural  for  the  untaught  and  undeveloped  man 
to  utter  exclamations,  as  to  make  gestures,  expressive  of  his 
feelings ;  and  as,  in  the  absence  of  a  voice,  the  tendency  to 
gesture  might  have  been  fruitful  in  suggesting  a  language  of 
significant  motions,  so  we  may  most  plausibly  suppose  that 
the  tendency  to  exclaim  was  not  without  value  in  aiding  men 
to  realize  that  they  had  in  their  voices  that  which  was  capable 


480  VARIETIES    OF    THE  [lK  .T^ 

of  being  applied  to  express  the  movements  of  tteir  spirits. 
Perhaps  the  principal  contribution  of  exclamations  to  the 
origin  of  language  was  made  in  this  way,  rather  than  by  the 
fui-nishing  of  actual  radical  elements  :  for  the  latter  work, 
their  restricted  scope,  their  subjective  character,  their  in- 
fertility of  relations,  would  render  them  less  fitted. 

There  is  no  real  discordance  between  the  onomatopoetic 
and  interjectional  theories,  nor  do  the  advocates  of  either,  it 
is  believed,  deny  or  dii^arage  the  value  of  the  other,  or  refuse 
its  aid  iu  the  solution  of  their  common  problem.  The  defini- 
tion of  the  onomatopoetic  principle  might  be  without  difficulty 
or  violence  so  widened  that  it  should  include  the  interjec- 
tional. We  must,  indeed,  beware  of  restricting  its  action  , 
too  narrowly.  It  is  by  no  means  limited  to  a  reproduction 
of  the  sounds  of  animate  and  inanimate  nature :  it  admits 
also  a  kind  of  symbolical  representation — as  an  intimation  of 
abrupt,  or  rapid,  or  laborious,  or  smooth  action  by  utterances 
making  an  analogous  impression  upon  the  ear.  A  yet  more 
subjective  symbolism  has  been  sought  for  among  some  of  the 
earlier  constituents  of  spee«h  ;  it  has  been  suggested,  for  ex- 
ample, not  witliout  a  certain  degree  of  plausibility,  that  the 
pronominal  root  of  the  first  person  in  the  Indo-European  (and 
in  many  other)  languages,  via  (our  me),  has  in  its  internality 
of  formation,  its  utterance  with  closed  lips,  as  if  shutting  out 
the  external  world,  a  peculiar  adaptedness  to  express  one's 
own  personality ;  and  that  the  demonstrative  ta  (which  has 
become  our  that)  was  prompted  by  the  position  it  calls  for 
in  the  tongue,  which  is  thrust  forward  in  the  mouth,  as  it 
were  to  point  out  the  object  indicated.  Very  little  of  this 
kind,  if  anything  at  all,  can  be  satisfactorily  made  out  in  the 
matei-ial  of  language ;  that,  however,  some  degree  of  such 
subjective  correspondence,  felt  more  distinctly  in  certain 
cases,  less  so  in  others,  may  have  sometimes  suggested  to  a 
root-proposer,  by  a  subtile  and  hardly  definable  analogy,  one 
jjarticular  complex  of  sounds  rather  than  another,  as  the 
representative  of  an  idea  for  which  he  was  seeking  expression, 
need  not  be  absolutely  denied.  ^  Only,  in  admitting  it,  and 
seeking  for  traces  of  its  influence,  we  must  beware  of 
aj.'proximating    iu    any    degree    to    that   wildest   and  most 


XI.]  IMITATIVE    PRINCIPLE.  431 

absurd  of  tlie  many  vagaries  respecting  language,  the  doe- 
trine  of  the  natural  and  inherent  significance  of  articulate 
sounds. 

It  is  quite  unnecessary  that  we  should  attempt  to  deter- 
mine the  precise  part  played  by  these  principles,  or  these 
ditfereut  forms  of  the  onomatopoetic  principle,  in  generating 
the  germs  of  speech.  We  cannot  go  far  astray,  either  in 
overestimating  or  in  underestimating  the  value  of  each  one 
of  them,  if  we  bear  always  distinctly  in  mind  the  higher 
principle  under  which  they  all  alike  exercised  their  influence  : 
namely,  that  the  language-makers  were  not  attempting  to 
make  a  faithful  depiction  of  their  thought,  but  only  to  find 
for  it  a  mutually  intelligible  sign  ;  and  that  everything  which 
conduced  to  such  intelligibility  would  have  been,  and  was, 
resorted  to,  and  to  an  extent  dependent  on  its  degree  of 
adaptedness  to  the  purpose — the  extent  being  a  fair  matter 
for  difterence  of  opinion,  and  for  ascertainment  by  further 
detailed  investigation,  both  theoretical  and  historical.  There 
are  many  ideas  which  would  be  much  more  clearly  intimated 
by  a  gesture,  a  grimace,  or  a  tone,  tlian  by  a  word  ;  and,  aa 
has  been  already  remarked,  we  cannot  doubt  that  tones, 
grimaces,  and  gestures  constituted  no  small  portion  of  the 
first  sign-language,  both  as  independently  conveying  meaning, 
and  as  helping  to  establish  the  desired  association  between  ar- 
ticulate signs  and  the  ideas  which  they  were  intended  to  signify. 
Language,  indeed,  never  fully  outgrows  the  need  of  their 
assistance  :  it  is  only  the  most  highly  developed  and  culti- 
vated tongues,  wielded  by  the  most  skilful  writers,  that  can 
make  a  written  passage,  even  when  addressed  to  the  intellect 
alone,  as  clear  and  efi'ective  as  the  same  would  be  when 
well  uttered,  with  the  addition  of  due  emphasis  and  inflec- 
tion :  and  where  the  emotions  and  passions  are  appepJed 
to,  we  have  the  opinion  of  one  of  the  greatest  word-arti>ta 
of  antiquity  (Demosthenes)  that  "  action  "  is  far  more  than 
words. 

We  are  not,  of  course,  to  look  upon  the  imitative  signs 
of  which  Ave  have  been  treating  as  servile  copies  of  natural 
sounds,  or  their  exact  reproductions.  Xothiug  of  that  kind 
is  either  called  for  or  possible.     Inarticulate  noises  are  not 


432  OBLITERATION    OF    THE    SIGNS  [LSCT. 

faithfully  representable  by  articulate,  nor  is  more  than  a  dis- 
tant likeness  needed  in  the  sign  that  shall  suggest  and  recall 
them.  The  circumstances  in  which  a  new  word  is  generated 
and  used  contribute  no  small  part  toward  its  correct  appre- 
hension, in  the  first,  as  in  all  the  after-stages  of  linguistic 
growth.  The  most  violent  mutilations  of  form,  the  most  ab- 
surd confusions  of  meaning,  committed  upon  words  by  very 
young  children,  when  just  learning  to  talk,  do  not  prevent 
those  who  are  familiar  with  them  from  understanding  whicb 
of  their  contracted  circle  of  ideas  they  are  intending  to  sig- 
nify :  and  many  a  change  almost  as  violent,  or  a  transfer 
almost  as  distant,  has  made  part  of  the  regular  history  of 
speech,  being  justified  by  the  exigency  that  called  it  forth, 
and  explained  by  the  suggestive  conditions  of  the  case.  The 
process  of  language-making  was  always  in  a  peculiar  sense 
a  tentative  one  ;  a  searching  after  and  experimental  proposal 
of  signs  thenceforth  to  be  associated  with  conceptions. 
There  was  not  less  eagerness  and  intelligence  on  the  part  of 
the  hearer  to  catch  and  apprehend  than  on  that  of  the 
speaker  to  communicate ;  tlie  impulse  to  a  mutual  under- 
Btanding  was  so  strong  as  to  make  even  a  modicum  of  con- 
nection between  sign  and  sense  sufficient  for  its  purpose. 
A  wide  range  of  possibilities  was  thus  opened  for  the  desig- 
nation of  any  given  idea,  even  though  resting  upon  the  same 
onomatopoetic  ground  :  as,  indeed,  the  present  facts  of  lan- 
guage show  us  no  little  variety  and  dissimilarity  in  the  con- 
fessedly imitative  names  of  the  same  objects. 

That  distinct  and  unequivocal  signs  of  onomatopoetic 
action  are  not  abundantly  to  be  recognized  among  the  earliest 
traceable  constituents  of  our  language  is  no  valid  argument 
against  the  truth  of  that  view  of  the  origin  of  speech  which 
we  have  been  defending.  It  has  been  a  common  weakness 
with  the  upholders  of  the  onomatopoetic  theory,  and  one 
vvhi(;h  more  than  anything  else,  perhaps,  has  tended  to  dis- 
credit them  and  it  with  linguistic  scholars,  that  they  claim  to 
point  out  toi)  much  in  detail,  endeavouring  to  find  imitative 
etvniologies  wliere  a  more  thorough  comprehension  of  the 
fac-ts  and  a  sounder  and  less  prepossessed  judgment  see  an 
origin  of  another  and  leas  immediate  character.     But  their 


JI.]  OP   ONOMATOPOETIC    ORIGIN.  433 

doctrine  is  so  impregnably  founded  in  tlie  properly  under- 
stood faots  of  linguistic  history,  and  in  the  necessary  con- 
ditions and  forces  of  its  earliest  period,  that  they  can  well 
afford  to  be  modest,  and  even  reserved,  in  their  attempts  to 
explain  particulars.  Always  and  everywhere  in  language,  as 
we  have  abundantly  seen  in  oar  earlier  inquiries  into  the 
processes  of  linguistic  growth,  when  once  the  mutually  intel- 
ligible sign  is  found,  its  origin  is  liable  to  be  forgotten  and 
obscured.  There  was  doubtless  a  period  in  the  progress  of 
speecli  when  its  wiiole  structure  w^as  palpably  onomatopoetic  ; 
but  not  a  long  one :  the  onomatopoetic  stage  was  only  a 
stepping-stone  to  something  higher  and  better.  Especially, 
perhaps,  was  this  the  case  in  the  language  of  our  own 
branch  of  the  human  race,  whose  nobler  endowments  must 
have  begun  very  early  their  career  of  superior  development. 
If  we  could  trace  the  roots  of  the  other  families  of  lan»uao:e 
back  to  the  same  remote  stage,  we  might  find  in  some  of 
them  more  evident  traces  of  the  primal  imitative  condition  ; 
we  may  even  yet  find  the  same  principle  dominant  to  a  much 
higher  degree  through  the  whole  history  of  one  or  other  of 
those  families  than  in  our  own. 

How  many  may  have  been  the  individual  proposals  of 
signs  which  were  made  ineftectively,  to  be  disregarded  or 
soon  forgotten  again,  or  how  many  tlie  special  signs  which 
gained  a  certain  currency  in  the  minor  groups  of  the  language- 
making  community,  but  failed  to  win  that  general  acceptance 
which  should  make  them  the  germs  of  a  transmitted  and 
perpetuated  language,  we  do  not  and  cannot  know.  Xor 
can  we  know  how  numerous,  or  of  what  social   constitution, 

'  or  in  what  condition  of  life,  was  the  community  which  thus 
formed  the  speech  of  a  linguistic  family  or  of  the  whole  hu- 
man race ;  nor  how  rapid  was  the  accumulation  of  uttered 
w^ords  of  general  intelligibility,  nor  how  great  the  store 
gathered  by  direct  imitative  process,  nor  how  long  the  period 
during  which  they  and  their  like  were  made  to  answer  the 
purposes   of  communication,   anterior   to   the  beginning   of 

[  structural  development.  On  all  such  topics  as  these — as  we 
have  found  occasion  to  remark  before  (in  the  seventh  lec- 
ture), when  treating  of  similar  subjects — even  our  g'.aessei 

28 


434  REMAINING    OBSCURITIES  [LECT. 

are  now  worth  no  thing,  or  so  nearly  nothing  as  not  to  deserve 
recording.  But  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  any  lan- 
guage of  roots  alone  was  ever  otherwise  than  scanty  and 
feeble  ;  those  are  greatly  mistaken  who  imagine  that  the  be- 
ginnings of  speech  were  produced  in  a  profusion,  a  super- 
iluity,  which  later  times  have  rather  tempered  down  and 
economized  than  increased.  We  can  see  clearly  also  that 
the  imitative  principle,  on  the  one  hand,  has  its  natural 
limits,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  would  soon  begin  to  admit 
the  concurrence  of  a  new  principle  of  word-making:  namely, 
the  dilT'erentiation  and  various  adaptation  of  the  signs  already 
established  in  use.  There  would  come  a  time,  before  very 
long,  when  a  designation  of  certain  ideas  would  be  more 
easily  won  out  of  existing  material  than  by  the  creation  of 
new  ;  and  this  facility  would  rapidly  increase  as  the  body  of 
accepted  expression  was  augmented ;  until  finally  the  con- 
dition of  things  was  reached  which  we  find  prevailing  dui'ing 
the  historical  periods  of  language,  when  additions  to  our 
store  of  expression  are  almost  exclusively  elaborated  out  of 
modes  of  expression  in  previous  use,  and  onomatopoeia  is 
resorted  to  only  in  rare  and  exceptional  cases. 

The  imitative  principle  is  limited  in  kind  as  well  as  in  ex- 
tent of  action,  and  it  may  sometime  become  a  practical 
inquiry  what  were  the  individual  conceptions  to  which  the 
first  signs  were  fitted.  In  the  present  state  of  advancement 
of  linguistic  science,  as  also  of  our  knowledge  of  the  earliest 
human  conditions,  such  an  investigation,  though  an  interest- 
ing one,  would  doubtless  lead  to  no  valuable  result. 

The  view  of  language  and  of  its  origin  which  has  been 
here  set  forth  will,  as  I  well  know,  be  denounced  by  many  as 
a  low  view  :  but  the  condemnation  need  not  give  us  much 
concern.  Tt  is  desirable  to  aim  low,  if  thereby  one  hits  the 
mark  ;  better  humble  and  true  than  high-flown,  pretentious, 
and  false.  A  considerable  class  of  linguistic  scholars,  fearful 
lest  they  should  not  otherwise  make  out  language  to  be  a 
Hulficiontly  exalted  and  sacred  thiug,  confound  it  with 
tliought,  and  arrogate  to  the  instrumentality  a  part  of  the 
attributes  which  belong  only  to  the  agent;  thus  becomiug 
involved  in  inconsistencies  and  abaurditiee,  or  blinding  them- 


«.] 


OF    THK    PxtOBLEM. 


435 


selves  aud  those  who  depend  upon  them  TV'ith  mystical  dog- 
mas, irreducible  to  the  language  of  fact  and  common  sense. 
Mind  and  its  operations  are  full  of  real  mystery  ;  in  language, 
there  are  no  mysteries,  but  only  the  obscurities  and  diffi- 
culties inseparable  from  the  rise  and  development  of  the 
oldest  and  most  important  of  all  human  institutions. 


ir£j£^' 


Of 


QUIR«i^- 


436 


LECTIfEE  XII. 


?^y  men  alone  can  speak.  Valuo  of  speech  to  man.  Training  involved 
in  the  acquisition  of  language.  Eeflex  influence  of  language  on  mind 
and  history.  Writing  the  natural  aid  and  complement  of  speech. 
Fundamental  idea  of  written  speech.  Its  development.  Symbolic 
and  mnemonic  objects.  Picture  writing.  Egyptian  hieroglyphs. 
Chinese  writing.  Cuneiform  characters.  Syllabic  modes  of  writing. 
The  Phenician  alphabet  and  its  descendants.  Greek  and  Latin 
alphabets.  English  alphabet.  English  orthography.  Rank  of  the 
English  among  laniiruaKes. 


Our  last  mquiries,  into  the  origin  of  language  and  the 
nature  of  its  connection  ^vitll  thouglit,  brought  iis  to  conclu- 
sions accordaut  ^vith  those  we  had  reached  in  the  course  of 
our  earlier  discussions,  and  foreshadowed  by  them.  As  we 
had  found  before  that  the  only  forces  immediately  concerned 
in  the  growth  and  changes  of  language  were  human,  so  now 
we  saw  that  there  was  no  reason  to  regard  any  others  as 
having  borne  a  share  in  its  origination :  in  its  incipient 
stage,  no  less  than  in  its  succeeding  phases,  speech  has  been 
the  work  of  those  whose  needs  it  supplies ;  it  is  in  no 
other  sense  of  divine  origin  than  as  everything  which  man 
possesses  is  a  divine  gift,  the  product  of  endowments  and 
conditions  which  are  not  of  his  own  determining.  As, 
further,  we  had  recognized  the  arbitrariness  and  convention- 
ality of  the  means  whereby  each  individual  among  us  signifies 
his  concej)tions  to  his  fellows — namely,  utterances  learned  by 
each  from  those  among  whom  liis  lot  chanced  to  be  cast,  he 
being  forced  to  speak  as  t)ioy  were  in  the  habit  of  speaking 


XII.J  ORIGIN   OP   LANOTJAGE.  437 

— H30  now  we  perceived  that  tlie  same  qualities  liad  attached 
from  the  very  outset  to  the  signs  chosen  for  expression ; 
that,  as  there  is  at  present  no  internal  and  necessary  reason 
why  we  employ  one  particular  complex  of  sounds  rather  than 
another  as  the  representative  of  a  particular  idea,  so  there 
had  never  been  any  such  reason ;  that  words  never  meant 
thoughts,  but  always  simply  designated  them.  It  had  form- 
erly appeared  to  us  that,  although  there  has  been  in  every 
case  an  etymological  reason  for  a  word,  this  reason  is  one  of 
convenience  only,  founded  in  the  prior  acquisitions  and 
habitudes  of  the  word-makers ;  efficient,  indeed,  at  the 
moment  of  origination  of  the  word,  whose  association  with  the 
intended  meaning  it  is  instrumental  in  initiating,  but  idle 
when  the  association  has  once  been  formed,  and  therefore 
soon  neglected  by  the  language-users,  and  often  forgotten 
beyond  power  of  recovery — and  now  we  were  brought  to 
acknowledge  that  the  very  first  words  had  only  a  similar 
reason,  being  such  utterances  as  the  natural  endowments  and 
habits  of  man,  his  imitative  faculty  and  his  tendency  to 
exclaim,  made  the  feasible  means  of  arriving  at  a  mutual 
comprehension  between  utterer  and  listener.  OnomatopcBia, 
in  all  its  varieties  of  application,  thus  came  in  at  the  outset, 
aided  and  supplemented  by  tone  and  gesture,  to  help  the  lan- 
guage-makers to  find  intelligible  signs,  but  ceased  to  control 
the  history  of  each  sign  when  once  this  had  become  under- 
stood and  conventionally  accepted ;  while  the  productive 
efficiency  of  the  principle  gradually  diminished  and  died  out 
as  a  stock  of  signs  was  accumulated  sufficient  to  serve  as  the 
germs  of  speech,  and  to  increase  by  combination  and  difi'er- 
entiation.  Thus,  as  mutual  intelligibility  had  been  before 
proved  to  be  the  only  test  of  the  unity  of  language,  and  its 
necessity  the  force  that  conserved  linguistic  unity,  it  was 
further  demonstrated  that  the  desire  to  understand  and  be 
understood  by  one  another  was  the  impulse  which  acted 
directly  to  call  forth  language.  In  all  its  stages  of  growth 
alike,  then,  speech  is  strictly  a  social  institution ;  as  the 
speaking  man,  when  reduced  to  solitude,  unlearns  its  use,  so 
the  solitary  man  would  never  have  formed  it.  AYe  may  extol 
M   much  as  we   please,  without  risk  of  exaggeration,  the 


438  WHY  MEN  ALOXE  [LECT- 

advantage  whicli  each  one  of  us  derives  from  it  within  his 
inmost  self,  in  the  training  and  equipment  of  his  own  powers 
of  thought :  but  the  advantage  is  one  we  should  never  have 
enjoyed,  save  as  we  were  born  members  of  a  community : 
the  ideas  of  speech  and  of  community  are  inseparable. 

By  thus  tracing  back,  as  well  as  our  knowledge  and  our 
limited  time  have  allowed,  the  course  of  the  history  of  human 
speech  even  to  its  very  beginning,  we  have  made  such  answer 
as  was  within  our  power  to  our  introductory  question,  "  Why 
we  speak  as  we  do,  and  not  otherwise  ?  "  But,  before  bring- 
ing our  discussions  to  a  close,  it  will  be  well  for  us,  varying  a 
little  the  emphasis  of  our  inquiry,  to  present  and  consider  it 
in  one  or  two  new  aspects. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  why  do  toe  speak — we  human 
beings  and  we  alone,  and  not  also  the  other  races  of  animals 
which  have  been  endowed  with  faculties  in  many  respects  so 
like  our  own  ?  The  fact  is  a  patent  one :  although  some  of 
the  lower  animals  are  not  entirely  destitute  of  the  power  of 
communicating  together,  their  means  of  communication  is 
alto<j:ether  different  from  what  we  call  lani^uafje.  The 
essential  characteristic  of  our  speech  is  that  it  is  arbitrary 
and  conventional ;  that  of  the  animals,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
natural  and  instinctive :  the  former  is,  therefore,  capable  of 
indefinite  change,  growth,  and  development ;  the  latter  is 
unvarying,  and  cannot  transcend  its  original  narrow  limits  : 
the  one  is  handed  down  by  tradition,  and  acquired  by  in- 
struction ;  the  other  af)pears  independently,  in  its  integrity, 
in  every  individual  of  the  race.  Now,  for  the  superiority  of 
man  in  this  particular,  the  general  reason,  that  his  endow- 
ments are  vastly  higher  than  those  of  the  inferior  races, 
though  by  no  means  so  definite  as  could  be  desired,  is  per- 
haps the  truest  and  most  satisfactory  of  which  the  case  at 
present  admits.  AVhen  philosophers  shall  have  determined 
precisely  wherein  lies  the  superiority  of  man's  mind,  they  will 
at  the  same  time  have  explained  in  detail  his  exclusive  pos. 
session  of  speech.  Vie  are  accustomed  to  agree  that  man  is 
distinguished  from  the  brute  by  the  gift  of  reason  ;  but  then 
we  can  only  define  reason  as  that  whereby  man  is  distin- 
guished from  the  brute ;  for  as  to  what  reason  is,  how  far  ife 


XII.]  POSSESS   LANGrAGE.  439 

is  a  dift'erence  of  kind,  and  How  far  one  of  degree  olIy,  we 
are   quite   at  a  loss  to  tell.       To   say   that   the   animal   is 
governed  by  instinct  instead  of  reason  does  not  help  the 
difficulty  ;  it  is  but  giving  a  name  to  a  distinction  of  which 
we  do  not  comprehend  the  nature.     ^\'herever  the  line  may 
require  to  be  drawn  between  the   "  blind  instinct,"   as  W' e 
sometimes  style  it,  of  the  bee  and  ant,  and  the  "  free  intelli- 
gence "  of  man,  that  line  is  certainly  long  passed  when  we 
come  to  some  of  the  higher  animals — as,  for  example,  the  dog. 
I\o  one  can  successfully  deny  to  the  dog  the  possession  of  an 
intelligence   which   is   real,  even  though  limited  by  bound- 
aries much  narroW'Or  than    those    that    shut   in  our   own ; 
nor  of  something  so  akin  with  many  of  the  nobler  qualities  on 
w^liich  we  pride  ourselves  that  their  difference  is  evanescent 
and  indefinable.      And  anything  wearing  even  the  semblance 
of  intelligence  necessarily  implies  the  power  to  form  general 
ideas.      It  is  little  short  of  absurdity  to  maintain,  for  instance, 
that  the  dog,  and  many  another  animal,  does  not  fully  appre- 
hend the  idea  of  a  human  being ;  does  not,  whenever  it  sees 
a  new  individual  of  the  class,  recognize  it  as  such,  as  having 
like   qualities,   and  able  to  do  like  thini^s,  with  other  indivi- 
duals of  the  same  class  whom  it  has  seen  before.      If  the  crow 
did  not  comprehend  what  a  man  is,  why  should  it  be  afraid  of 
a  scarecrow  ?     And  how^  is  any  application  of  the  results  of 
past  experience  to  the  government  of  present  action — such 
as  the   brutes  are  abundantly  capable  of — possible  without 
the  aid  of  general  conceptions  ?      To  identify  reason,  then, 
with  the  single  mental  capacity  of  forming  general  ideas,  and 
to  trace  the  possession  of  speech  directly  to  this  faculty,  is, 
in  my  vioAV,  wholly  erroneous :    it  is  part  of  that  superficial 
and    unsound    philosophy    which    confounds    and    identifies 
speech,  thought,  and  reason.     Speech  is  one  of  the  most  con- 
spicuous and  valuable  of  the  manifestations  of  reason  ;  but, 
even  without  it,  reason  w^ould  be  reason,  and  man  would  be 
man,  though  far  below  what  he  was  meant  to  become,  and  is 
capable  of  becoming  through  the  aid  of  speech :  and  there 
are  many  other  things  besides  talking  which  man  can  do  in 
virtue  of  his  reason,  and  which  are  out  of  the  power  of  any 
other  creature      If  we  are  pressed  to  say  in  what  mode  of 


ilO  VALUE    OF    LANO-UAGE  [lECT. 

action,  more  than  in  any  other,  lies  that  deficiency  in  the 
powers  of  the  lower  animals  which  puts  language  beyond 
their  reach,  we  need  have  little  hesitation  in  answering  that  it 
is  the  inferiority  of  the  command  which  consciousness  in 
them  exercises  over  the  mental  operations  :  in  their  inability 
to  hold  up  their  conceptions  before  their  own  gaze,  to  trace 
out  the  steps  of  reasoning,  to  analyze  and  compare  in  a 
leisurely  and  reflective  manner,  separating  qualities  and  rela- 
tions from  one  another,  so  as  to  perceive  that  each  is  capable 
of  distinct  designation.  That  many  animals  come  so  near  to 
a  capacity  for  language  as  to  be  able  to  understand  and  bo 
directed  by  it  when  it  is  addressed  to  them  by  man,  was 
pointed  out  in  the  last  lecture ;  nor  can  I  see  that  their  con- 
dition is  destitute  of  analogy  with  that  of  very  young 
children,  whose  power  of  understanding  language  is  developed 
sooner  and  more  rapidly  than  their  power  of  employing  it ; 
who  learn  to  apprehend  a  host  of  things  before  they  learn  to 
express  them.  In  respect  to  speech,  it  is  very  evident  that 
the  distance  from  the  oyster,  for  instance,  which  no  amount 
of  training  can  bring  to  the  slightest  apprehension  of  any- 
thing you  may  wish  to  signify  to  it,  to  the  intelligent  and 
docile  dog,  is  vastly  greater  than  that  which  separates  the 
dog  from  the  undeveloped  man,  or  from  a  man  of  one  of  the 
lower  and  more  brutish  races. 

But  once  more,  ivhj/  do  we  speak  ?  what  is  the  final  causa 
of  the  gift  of  language  to  man  ?  in  what  way  is  the  possession 
of  such  a  power  of  advantage  to  us  ?  These  inquiries  open  a 
great  and  wide-reaching  subject ;  one  far  too  great,  indeed, 
for  us  to  attempt  dealing  with  it,  in  the  contracted  space  at 
our  command,  otherwise  than  in  the  briefest  and  most  super- 
ficial manner.  A  detailed  reply  can  be  the  more  easily  dis- 
pensed with,  inasmuch  as,  on  the  one  hand,  the  worth  of 
speech  is  too  present  to  the  mind  of  every  one  to  need  to  bo 
called  up  otherwise  than  by  a  simple  allusion  ;  and  as,  on  the 
other  hand^our  previous  discussions  have  brought  more  of 
less  distinctly  to  view  the  chief  points  requiring  notice. 

The  general  answer,  in  which  is  sunnned  up  nearly  the 
whole  array  of  advantages  derived  from  language,  is  this: 
that  it  enables  men  to  be,  as  they  are  intended  to  be,  social, 


XII.]  TO    THE    HUMAN    RACE.  441 

and  not  merely  gregarious  beings.  As  it  is  tlie  product,  so 
it  is  also  the  means  and  instrument,  of  community.  It  con- 
verts tlie  human  race  from  a  bare  aggregate  of  individuals 
into  a  unity,  having  a  joint  life,  a  common  development,  to 
which  each  individual  contributes  his  mite,  receiving  an  untold 
treasure  in  return.  It  alone  makes  history  possible.  All 
that  man  possesses  more  than  the  brute  is  so  intimately 
bound  up  with  language  that  the  two  are  hardly  separable 
from  one  another  ;  and,  as  we  have  already  seen,  are  regarded 
by  some  erroneously,  but  naturally  and  excusably,  as  actually 
identical.  Our  endowments,  so  infinitely  higher  than  the 
brute's,  need  also,  as  being  so  much  freer  and  less  instinctive, 
to  be  brought  to  our  knowledge,  to  be  di^awn  out  and  edu- 
cated. The  speechless  man  is  a  being  of  undeveloped  capa- 
cities, having  within  him  the  seeds  of  everything  great  and 
good,  but  seeds  which  only  language  can  fertilize  and  bring 
to  fruit ;  he  is  potentially  the  lord  of  nature,  the  image  of 
his  Creator  ;  but  in  present  reality  he  is  only  a  more  cunnmg 
brute  among  brutes.  There  is  hardly  to  be  found  in  tho 
whole  animal  creation  any  being  more  ignoble  and  shocking 
than  those  wild  and  savage  solitary  men,  of  whom  history 
affords  us  now  and  then  a  specimen ;  but  what  we  are  above 
them  has  been  gained  through  the  instrumentality  of  lan- 
guage, and  is  the  product  of  a  slow  progressive  accumulation 
and  transmission.  If  each  human  being  had  to  begin  for 
himself  the  career  of  education  and  improvement,  all  the 
energies  of  the  race  would  be  absorbed  in  taking,  over  and 
over  again,  the  first  simple  steps.  Language  enables  each 
generation  to  lay  up  securely,  and  to  hand  over  to  its  suc- 
cessors, its  o^vu  collected  wisdom,  its  stores  of  experience, 
deduction,  and  invention,  so  that  each  starts  from  the  point 
which  its  predecessor  had  reached,  and  every  individual  com- 
mences his  career,  heir  to  the  gathered  wealth  of  an  immea- 
surable past. 

So  far,  now,  as  this  advantage  comes  to  us  from  the  hand- 
ing down,  through  means  of  speech,  of  knowledge  hoarded  up 
by  those  who  have  lived  before  us,  or  from  its  communication 
by  our  contemporaries,  we  appreciate  with  a  tolerable  degree 
of  justness  its  nature  and  value.     We  know  fuL  well  that  wo 


442  EDUCATION    RECEIVED  [lEOT. 

were  bom  ignorant,  and  have  by  hearing  and  reading  pos- 
sessed ourselves  in  a  few  shoH  years  of  more  enlightenment 
than  we  could  have  worked  out  for  our  own  use  in   many 
long  centuries;    we  can  trace,   too,  the  history  of   various 
branches  of  knowledge,  and  see  how   they  have  grown   up 
from  scanty  beginnings,  by  the  consenting  labour  of  innu- 
merable minds,  through  a  succession  of  generations.      AVe  are 
aware  that  our  culture,  in  the  possession   of  which  we  are 
more   fortunate  than  all  who  have   gone  before  us,  is  the 
product  of  historical  conditions  working  through  hundreds, 
even   thousands,    of    years ;    that    its    germs    began    to    be 
developed  in  the  far  distant  East,  in  ages  so  remote  that 
history  and  tradition  alike  fail  to  give  us  so  much  as  glimpses 
of  their  birth  ;  that  they  were  engendered  among  exception- 
ally endowed  races,  in  especially  favouring  situations,  and 
were  passed  on  from  one  people  to  another,  elaborated  and 
increased  by  each,  until,  but  a  thousand  years  ago,  our  own 
immediate  ancestors,  a  horde   of  uncouth  barbarians,  were 
ready  to   receive  them  in  their  turn — and  that  this  whole 
process  of  accumulation  and  transfer  has  been  made  possible 
only  by  means  of  speech  and  its  kindred  and  dependent  art 
of  record.     What  we  are  far  less  mindful  of  is  the  extent  to 
which  we  derive  a  similar  gain  in  the  inheritance  of  language 
itself,  and  that  this  very  instrumentality  is  in   like  manner 
tne  gradually  gathered  and  perfected  work  of  many  genera- 
tions— in  part,  of  many  races.     AVe  do  not  realize  how  much 
of  the  observation  and  study  of  past  ages  is  stored  up  in  the 
mere  words  wliich  we  learn  so  easily  and  use  so  lightly,  and 
what  degree  of  training  our  minds  receive,  almost  without 
knowing  it,  by  entering  in  this  way  also  into  the  fruits  of 
the  prolonged  labour  of  others.     To  this  point,  then,  we  ow  e 
a  more  special  consideration. 

Learning  to  speak  is  the  first  step  in  each  child's  education, 
the  necessary  preparation  for  receiving  higher  instruction  of 
everv  kind.  So  was  it  also  with  the  human  race  ;  the  acquisi- 
tion of  speech  constituted  tlie  first  stage  in  the  progressive 
development  of  its  capacities.  We,  as  individuals,  have  for- 
gotten both  the  labour  that  the  task  cost  us  and  the  enlight- 
enment its  successful  accomplishment  brought  us  :  the  whole 


SII.]  IN    LEARNING    TO    SPEAK.  443 

lies  too  far  back  in  our  lives  to  be  reached  by  our  memories  ; 
we  feel  as  if  we  bad  always  spoken,  as  directly  and  naturally 
as  we  have  thought.     As  a  race,  too,  we  have  done  the  same 
thing  :  neither  history  nor  tradition  can  penetrate  to  a  period 
at  all  approaching  that  of  the  formation  of  language  ;  it  wa? 
in  the  very  childhood  of  our  species,  and  men  learned  think- 
ing and  talking  together,  even  as  they  learn  them  now-a- 
days  :  not  till  they  had  acquired  through  language  the  art  of 
wielding  the  forces  of  thought,  were  they  qualified  to  go  on 
to  the  storing  up  of  various  knowledge.     Into  a  few  years  oi 
insti'uction  are  now  crowded,  for  the  young  student,  the  net 
results  of  as  many  tens  of  centuries  of  toiling  after  wisdom 
on  the  part  of  no  small  portion  of  mankind ;    and,  in  like 
manner,  into  the  language-learning  of  the  first  few  months 
and  years  is  crowded  the  fruit  of  as  many  ages  of  language- 
making.     AVe  saAv  in  the  last  lecture  that,  if  two  human 
beings  were  suffered  to  grow  up  together  untaught,  they 
would  inevitably  frame   some  means  of  communication,  to 
which  we  could  not  deny  the  name  of  language  :  but  we  know 
not  how  many  generations  would  succeed  one  another  before 
it  could  reach  a  fulness  comparable  with  that  of  even  the 
rudest  existing  human  dialects.     Men  invent  language,  their 
mental  instrument,  as  truly  as  they  invent  the  mechanical 
appliances  whereby  they  extend  and  multiply  the  power  of 
their  hands ;  but  it  would  be  as  impossible  for  a  man,  or  a 
generation,  to  invent  a  language  like  one  of  those  which  we 
know  and  use,  as,  for  example,  to  invent  a  locomotive  engine. 
The  invention  of  the  engine  may  be  said  to  have  begun  when 
the  first  men  learned  how  to  make  a  fire  and  keep  it  alive 
with  fuel ;    another  early  step   (and  one  to  which  many  a 
living  race  has  not  even  yet  ascended)  was  the  contriving  of  a 
wheel ;  command  was  won,  by  degrees,  of  the  other  mechan- 
ical powers,  at  first  in  their  simplest,  then  in  their  more  com- 
plicated, forms  and  applications  ;  the  metals  were  discovered, 
and   the   means   of  reducing  and  working  them  one   after 
another  devised,  and  improved  and  perfected  by  long  accu- 
mulated experience  ;  various  motive  powers  were  noted  and 
reduced  to  the  service  of  men ;  to  the  list  of  such,  it  was  at 
length  seen  that  steam  might  be  added,  and,  after  many  vain 


44'4  EDUCATION    AND    CONSTRAINT  [lBCT, 

trials,  tliis  too  was  brouglit  to  subjection — ^and  thus  the  work 
was  at  length  carried  so  fiir  forward  that  the  single  step,  or 
the  few  steps,  which  remained  to  be  taken,  were  within  the 
power  of  an  individual  mind.  AVlicn  one  of  us  now  under- 
takes to  invent  a  language  (as  in  fact  happens  from  time  to 
time),  it  is  as  if  one  who  had  been  all  his  life  an  engineer 
should  sit  down  to  invent  a  steam-eno;ine :  he  does  nothinor 
but  copy  with  trifling  modifications  a  thing  which  he  is 
already  familiar  with  ;  he  rearranges  the  parts  a  little,  varies 
their  relative  dimensions,  uses  new  material  for  one  and 
another  of  them,  and  so  on — -perhaps  making  some  improve- 
ments in  matters  of  minor  detail,  but  quite  as  probably  turn- 
ing out  a  machine  that  will  not  work.  To  call  upon  a  man 
who  has  never  spoken  to  produce  a  complete  language  is  like 
setting  a  wild  Fijia,n  or  Fuegian  at  constructing  a  power-loom 
or  a  power-press :  he  neither  knows  what  it  is  nor  what  it 
will  be  good  for.  The  conditions  of  the  problem  which  is 
set  before  the  language-malcers  are  manifest :  man  is  placed 
in  the  midst  of  creation,  with  powers  which  are  capable  of 
unlocking  half  its  secrets,  but  with  no  positive  knowledge 
either  of  them  or  of  himself;  with  apprehensions  as  confused, 
with  cognitions  as  synthetic,  as  are  those  of  the  lower 
animals ;  and  he  has  to  make  his  way  as  well  as  he  can  to  a 
distinct  understanding  of  the  world  without  and  the  world 
within  him.  He  accomplishes  his  task  by  means  of  a  con- 
tinuous process  of  analysis  and  combination,  whereof  every 
result,  as  soon  as  it  is  found,  is  fixed  by  a  term,  and  thus 
made  a  permanent  possession,  capable  of  being  tarther 
elaborated,  and  communicated  by  direct  instruction.  It  is 
necessary  to  study  out  what  needs  to  be  expressed,  as  well 
as  the  means  of  its  expression.  Even  the  naming  of  concrete 
objects,  as  we  saw,  demands  an  analysis  and  recognition  of 
their  distinctive  qualities  ;  and  to  find  fitting  designations 
for  the  acts  and  relations  of  the  external  sensible  world,  and 
then,  by  an  acute  porce])tion  of  analogies  and  a  cunning 
transfer,  to  adapt  those  designations  to  the  acts,  states,  and 
relations  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  world  within  the  soul, 
was  not  an  easy  or  rapid  process ;  yet,  till  this  was  measur- 
ably advanced,  the  mind  had   no  instr  iment  with  which  it 


XII.]  IN    LEAENINa   LANGUAGE.  415 

could  perform  any  of  tlie  liigber  work  of  wliicli  it  was  capa- 
ble. But  as  each  generation  transmitted  to  its  successor 
what  it  had  itself  inherited  from  its  predecessor,  perfected 
and  increased  bv  the  results  of  its  own  mental  labour,  the 
ac(!umulation  of  language,  accompanying  the  development  of 
analytic  thought  and  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  went 
steadily  and  successfully  forward  ;  until  at  last,  when  one 
has  but  acquired  his  own  mother-tongue,  a  vocabulary  of 
terms  and  an  understanding  of  what  they  mean,  he  already 
comprehends  himself  and  his  surroundings  ;  he  possesses  the 
fitting  instrument  of  mental  action,  and  can  go  on  intelli- 
gently to  observe  and  deduce  for  himself.  Few  of  us  have ;, 
any  adequate  conception  of  the  debt  of  gratitude  we  owe  to 
our  ancestors  for  shaping  in  our  behalf  the  ideas  which  we 
now  acquire  along  with  the  means  of  their  expression,  or  of 
how  great  a  part  of  our  intellectual  training  consists  in  our 
simply  learning  how  to  speak. 

One  thing  more  we  have  to  note  in  connection  herewith. 
The  style  in  which  we  shall  do  our  thinking,  the  framework 
of  our  reasonings,  the  matters  of  our  subjective  apprehension, 
the  distinctions  and  relations  to  which  we  shall  direct  our 
chief  attention,  are  thus  determined  in  the  main  for  us,  not 
by  us.  In  learning  to  speak  with  those  about  us,  we  learn 
also  to  think  with  them  :  their  traditional  habits  of  mind  be- 
come ours.  In  this  guidance  there  is  therefore  something  of 
constraint,  although  we  are  little  apt  to  realize  it.  Study  of 
a  foreign  language  brings  it  in  some  measure  to  our  sense. 
He  who  begins  to  learn  a  tongue  not  his  own  is  at  first  hardly 
aware  of  any  ineom.mensurability  between  its  signs  for  ideas 
and  those  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed.  But  the  more 
intimately  he  comes  to  know  it,  and  the  more  natural  and 
familiar  its  use  becomes  to  him,  so  much  the  more  clearly 
does  he  see  that  the  dress  it  puts  upon  his  thoughts  modifies 
their  aspect,  the  more  impossible  does  it  grow  to  him  to 
translate  its  phrases  with  satisfactory  accuracy  into  his  native 
speech.  The  individual  is  thus  unable  to  enter  into  a  com- 
munity of  language-users  without  some  abridgment  of  his 
personal  freedom — even  though  the  penalty  be  wholly  insig- 
nificant as  compared  with  the  accruing  benefit.     Thus,  too, 


4-16  USE    OF    LANGUAGE  ;  [LECT. 

each  generation  feels  always  the  leading  hand,  not  only  of 
the  generation  that  immediately  instructed  it,  but  of  all  who 
have  gone  before,  and  talsen  a  part  in  moulding  the  common 
speech  ;  and,  not  least,  of  those  distant  communities,  hidden 
from  our  view  in  the  darkness  of  the  earliest  ajres,  whose 
action  determined  the  grand  structural  features  of  each  tongue 
now  spoken.  Every  race  is,  indeed,  as  a  whole,  the  artificer 
of  its  own  speech,  and  herein  is  manifested  the  sum  and  gen- 
eral effect  of  its  capacities  in  this  special  direction  of  action  ; 
but  many  a  one  has  felt  through  all  the  later  periods  of  its 
history  the  constraining  and  laming  force  of  a  language  un- 
happily developed  in  the  first  stages  of  formation ;  which  it 
might  have  made  better,  had  the  work  been  to  do  over  again, 
but  which  now  weighs  upon  its  powers  with  all  the  force  of 
disabling  inbred  habit.  Both  the  intellectual  and  the  histo- 
rical career  of  a  race  is  thus  in  no  small  degree  affected  by 
its  speech.  Upon  this  great  subject,  however,  of  the  influ- 
ence reflected  back  from  language  upon  the  thought  and 
mind  of  those  who  learn  and  use  it,  we  can  here  only  touch; 
to  treat  it  with  any  fulness  would  require  deep  and  detailed 
investigations,  both  linguistic  and  psychological,  for  which 
our  inquiries  hitherto  have  only  laid  the  necessary  foundation. 
The  extent  to  which  the  dift'erent  races  of  men  have  availed 
themselves  of  language,  to  secure  the  advantages  placed 
williin  their  reach  by  it,  is,  naturally  and  necessarily,  as 
various  as  are  the  endowments  of  the  races.  With  some,  it 
has  served  only  the  low  purposes  of  an  existence  raised  by 
its  aid  to  a  certain  height  above  that  of  the  brutes,  and  re- 
maining stationary  there.  Their  whole  native  capacity  of 
mental  development  seems  to  have  exhausted  itself  in  the 
acquisition  of  an  amount  of  language  even  less  than  is 
learned  by  the  youjig  child  of  many  another  race,  as  the  first 
stage  upon  which  his  after-education  shall  be  built  up.  Their 
life  is  absoi'bed  in  satisfying  the  demands  of  the  hour;  past  and 
future  arc  nothing  to  them  ;  the  world  is  merely  a  hunting- 
ground,  where  means  of  gratifying  physical  desires,  and  of 
lengthening  out  a  miserable  existence,  may  be  sought  and 
found  ;  its  'venders  do  not  even  awaken  in  their  minds  a 
sense  (»f  a  higlier  power;    the  barest  social  intercouree,  per* 


SII.]  COMPLETED    BY    WRITING.  4^7 

petuatiou  by  iiistr-uction  of  the  petty  arts  of  living,  and  Use 
scantiest  adaptation  to  the  changes  of  external  circumstances, 
are  all  they  ask  of  the  divine  gift  of  speech.  Through  such  a 
condition  as  this  we  may  suppose  that  all  human  language 
has  passed  ;  but  while  in  parts  of  the  world  it  still  stays  there, 
and  gives  no  prospect  of  a  higher  development  except  through 
the  influence  and  aid  of  races  of  better  gifts  and  richer  ac- 
quisitions, it  shows  elsewhere  every  degree  of  progression, 
up  even  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  wants  of  an  advanced  and 
advancing  culture  like  our  own,  where  the  knowledge  of  the 
past,  aiding  the  understanding  of  the  present  and  preparing 
for  the  future,  is  laid  up  in  such  aluindant  store,  that  he 
who  studies  longest  and  deepest,  and  with  most  appreciative 
and  inquisitive  industry,  hardly  does  more  than  realize  better 
than  his  fellows  how  little  he  can  know  of  that  which  is 
known  ;  how  short  is  life,  compared  with  the  almost  infinite 
extent  of  that  series  of  truths,  the  infinite  variety  of  that 
complication  of  cognitions,  which  life  puts  within  our  reach, 
and  whose  apprehension  constitutes  one  of  the  highest  and 
noblest  pleasures  of  life. 

Such  full  development  as  this,  however,  of  the  uses  and 
advantages  of  speech  would  be  impossible  by  the  instrument- 
ality of  spoken  speech  alone;  it  demands  a  farther  auxiliary, 
in  the  possession  of  written  speech.  The  art  of  writing  is  so 
natural  a  counterpart  and  complement  of  the  art  of  speaking, 
it  so  notably  takes  up  and  carries  farther  the  work  which 
language  has  undertaken  on  behalf  of  mankind,  that  some 
consideration  of  it  is  well-nigh  forced  upon  us  here  :  our 
view  of  the  history  and  office  of  language  would  otherwise 
lack  a  part  essential  to  its  completeness.  Speech  and  writing 
are  equally  necessary  elements  in  human  history,  equally 
growing  out  of  man's  capacity  and  wants  as  a  social  and  an 
indefinitely  perfectible  being.  He  would  be,  without  lan- 
guage, hardly  man  at  all,  a  creature  little  raised  above  the 
brutes  :  without  the  art  of  record,  his  elevation  would  soon 
find  ils  limits;  he  could  never  become  the  being  he  waa 
meant  to  be,  the  possessor  of  enlightenment,  the  true  lord  of 
nature  and  discoverer  of  her  secrets.  Language  makes  each 
community,  each  race,   a  unit;    writing   tends   to   bind  to- 


4i8  BEGINNINGS   OF    THE  [lKCT, 

gother  all  races  and  all  ages,  forcing  the  wliole  of  mankind 
to  contribute  to  the  education  and  endowment  of  every 
individual.  Moreover,  there  is  in  many  respects  so  close  a 
parallelism  and  analogy  between  the  histories  of  these  two 
sister  arts,  that,  were  it  only  for  the  value  of  the  illustration, 
we  should  be  justified  in  turning  aside  for  a  time  to  follow 
out  the  growth  of  letters. 

As  in  the  case  of  language,  it  may  be  remarked,  so  also  in 
that  of  writing,  we  hardly  realize,  until  we  begin  to  investi- 
gate the  subject,  that  the  art  has  had  a  history  at  all.  It 
seems  to  us  hardly  less  "  natural  "  to  write  our  thoughts  than 
to  speak  them :  such  is  the  power  of  educated  habit,  that  we 
take  both  alike  as  things  of  course.  But  what  we  have  above 
ehowTi  to  be  true  of  spoken  language  is  still  more  palpably 
and  demonstrably  true  of  written  ;  it  was  a  slow  and  laborious 
task  for  men  to  arrive  at  the  idea  and  its  realization :  more 
than  one  race  has  been  enera<j:ed  in  the  work  of  elaboratino: 
for  our  use  the  simple  and  convenient  means  of  record  of 
which  we  are  the  fortunate  possessors ;  many  have  been  the 
failures  or  only  partial  successes  which  have  attended  the 
efforts  of  portions  of  mankind  to  provide  themselves  with  such, 
means.  As  it  is  impossible  to  trace  the  history  of  our  own 
alphabet  back  to  its  very  beginning,  some  review  of  those 
efforts  will  be  our  best  means  of  inferring  what  its  earliest 
stages  of  growth  must  have  been,  and  will  prepare  us  to 
understand  what  it  is,  and  what  are  its  advantages.  * 

We  have  first  to  notice  tliat  the  force  which  impels  to  the 
invention  of  \Vriting,  wliich  leads  men  to  represent  thought 
by  visible  instead  Of  audible  signs,  is  the  desire  to  communi- 
cate to  a  distance,-  to  cut  expression  loose  from  its  natural 
limitation  to  the  personal  presence  of  him  whose  thought  is 
expressed,  and  make  it  apprehensible  by  persons  far  away. 
Even  tlic  intention  of  record,  of  conveying  the  thought  to  a 
distance  in  time  also,  makiiig  it  apprehensible  by  generations 

to  come,  shows  itself  only  secondarily,  as  experience  suggests 

« 

*  Til  dinwinj]^  up  this  skntch  of  tlie  liistoiT  of  writirifr,  T  have  to  acknow- 
ledi^o  my  special  oljliu^ations  to  I'rofi'ssor  Stointlial's  admirable  essay  on  the 
Development  of  Writing  {JJie  Entickkelung  der  !SchriJ't),  published  at  Berlia^ 
in  l8o2  (8vo,  pp.  113)." 


XII  J  ART   OF   WRITING.  419 

Bucli  use  ;  and  as  for  the  advantage  whicli  the  individual  him 
self  derives  from  recording  his  thought,  so  as  to  be  able  tc 
con  it  over,  to  apprehend  it  and  its  relations  more  distinctly, 
as  well  as  that  ether  incalculable  advantage  which  the 
individual  and  the  race  derive  from  the  transmission  and  ac- 
cumulation of  knowledge  by  this  means — these  are  matters 
\^hich  are  still  farther  from  the  minds  of  the  earliest  invent- 
ors. Here  is  a  first  most  notable  analogy  between  the 
histories  of  spoken  and  written  speech :  the  satisfaction  of  a 
simple  social  impulse,  arising  out  of  the  ordinary  needs 
of  intercourse  between  man  and  man,  brings  forth  by  degrees 
an  instrumentality  of  supreme  importance  to  the  progress  of 
the  whole  human  race.  The  earliest  writers,  like  the  earliest 
speakers,  wrought  far  more  wisely  than  they  knew. 

Again,  the  conveyance  of  thought  by  means  of  w^riting  was 
not  primarily  conceived  of  as  a  conveyance  of  the  spoken  lan- 
guage in  which  the  thought  would  be  expressed :  it  dealt 
immediately  with  the  conception  itself,  striving  to  place  this 
by  direct  means  before  tlie  apprehension  of  the  person  ad- 
dressed. Speecii  and  writing  were  two  independent  ways  of 
arriving  at  the  same  end.  We  may  add  that,  so  long  as  it 
remains  in  this  stage,  writing  is  a  tedious  and  bungling 
instrumentality ;  the  great  step  towards  its  perfection  is 
taken  when  it  accepts  a  subordinate  part,  as  consort  and 
helpmate  of  speech. 

A  first  feeble  effort  toward  the  realization  of  the  funda- 
mental object  of  writing  is  to  be  seen  in  the  custom- — not 
iufrequent  at  a  certain  period  of  culture,  and  even  retained 
in  occasional  use  among  peoples  of  every  grade  of  civilization 
— of  sending  along  with  a  messenger  some  visible  o])ject, 
symbolical  of  his  errand,  and  helping  both  to  authenticate 
and  to  render  it  impressive.  Thus,  the  prophet  Jeremiah 
(Jeremiah,  ch.  xix.)  is  directed  to  take  an  earthen  bottle  and 
break  it  before  the  ancients  of  his  people,  to  signify  the  sud- 
den and  irremediable  destruction  with  which  he  is  to  threaten 
them.  Thus  ambassadors  and  heralds  in  ancient  times  were 
charged  with  the  delivery  of  something  typical  of  the  peace 
or  war  they  were  sent  to  proclaim.  And  the  knight's  glove, 
thrown  down  in  defiance  and  taken  up  by  him  who  accept? 

29 


450  SYMBOLIC    AND    MNEMONIC    OBJECTS.  [lECE. 

the  challenge,  and  the  staff  still  broken  in  Grermany  over  the 
head  of  the  condemned  criminal,  are  instances  of  the  same 
f^^eneral  style  of  instrumentality  for  expressing  meaning. 
Objects,  too,  are  used  in  a  more  arbitrary  and  conventional 
way,  as  reminders,  helps  to  the  recollection  of  that  which  is 
communicated  orally.  So  the  North  American  Indian,  on 
solemn  occasions,  had  his  strips  of  wampum,  corresponding 
to  the  heads  of  the  discourse  he  had  prepared ;  and  handed 
them  over,  one  after  another,  as  each  announcement  was 
made  or  each  argument  finished,  to  the  person  addressed. 
We  should  hardly  need  to  take  any  notice  of  a  method  of 
intimation  so  rude  and  indefinite  as  this,  but  for  the  develop- 
ment which  we  know  it  to  have  attained,  as  a  practical  means 
of  communication  and  record,  in  the  usage  of  one  or  two 
nations.  It  received  its  greatest  elaboration  in  the  systeni 
of  the  qtiippos,  or  knotted  cords,  employed  in  Peru  at  the 
time  of  its  discovery  and  conquest.  With  these  cords  the 
state  messengers  were  provided,  and  by  their  numbers,  their 
colours,  their  groupings,  tlieir  style  of  knotting,  they  were 
made  conventionally  significant  of  each  one's  message,  even 
to  partial  independence  of  his  own  oral  explanation.  The 
accounts,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  annals  also,  of  the 
empire  of  the  Incas  are  claimed  to  have  been  intelligibly 
ke])t  by  means  of  the  quippos.  The  Peruvians  doubtless 
made  out  of  this  coarse  instrumentality  all  that  it  was 
capable  of  becoming ;  but  the  essentially  low  grade  of  their 
capacity  and  culture  is  indicated  by  the  fiict  that  they  had 
risen  to  the  invention  of  nothing  better.  The  Chinese,  too, 
curiously  enough,  have  preserved  the  tradition  that  their 
earliest  ancestors  w^rote  by  means  of  knotted  cords,  until  the 
mythical  emperor  Fo-hi  devised  the  beginnings  of  the  better 
system  of  which  we  shall  have  presently  to  speak. 

A  higher  degree  of  ingenuity,  and  a  greatly  superior  ca- 
pacity of  progression  and  development,  are  to  be  seen  in  the 
contrivance  of  a  picture-writing.  This,  in  its  simplest 
form,  is  found  all  over  the  world,  among  peoples  of  a  certain 
degree  of  civilization.  Let  us  look  at  an  example  furn- 
ished by  the  aborigines  of  our  own  country.* 

*  It  is  one  of  thoso  (jiven  by  Steinthal,  who  extracts  it  from  Schoolci'alf  • 
work  on  the  Indian  Tribes,  vol.  i.  p.  352. 


XII,]  PICTURE-WRITING.  451 

Two  hunters  Lave  gone  ap  the  river  on  an  expedition,  and 
have  killed  a  bear  and  taken  many  fish.  They  endeavour  to 
commemorate  their  success,  and  make  it  known  to  whosoever 
shall  pass  that  way  after  them,  by  a  monument  raised  upon 
the  spot.  On  a  piece  of  wood  they  draw  two  boats,  and 
over  each  the  totem,  or  symbolic  animal,  indicating  the 
family  to  which  each  hunter  respectively  belongs — his  sur- 
name, as  it  were.  The  figures  of  a  bear  and  of  half-a-dozen 
fish  tell  the  rest  of  the  simple  story.  There  is  here  no  idea 
of  a  narrative,  of  an  orderly  setting  forth  of  the  successive 
incidents  making  up  an  act  or  occurrence  :  the  whole  com- 
plex is  put  before  the  eye  at  once,  unanalyzed,  in  the  form 
in  which  we  might  suppose  it  to  lie  in  the  mind  of  a  brute — • 
or,  more  properly,  as  it  would  lie  in  the  mind  of  a  man  desti- 
tute of  language,  and  lacking  that  education  in  progressive 
thought  which  the  possession  and  use  of  language  give  ;  it 
abnegates,  in  short,  the  advantages  conferred  by  language, 
and  is  confusedly  synthetic,  like  the  conceptions  of  an  un- 
taught human  beiug.  It  offers  but  one  element  implying 
a  possibility  of  soHicthing  hio-her — namely,  the  totems,  which 
are  signs,  not  for  things,  but  for  the  conventional  and  com- 
municable names  of  things':  here  is  contained  in  embryo  the 
idea  of  a  written  language  representing  speech,  and  such 
might  be  made  to  grow  out  qS^  it,  if  the  picture- writers  had 
but  the  acuteness  to  perceiv*^  ^t  and  the  ingenuity  to  make 
the  conversion. 

The  pictorial  mode  of  wnfingis  analogous  with  that  primi- 
tive stage  of  language  in  which  all  signs  are  still  onomato- 
poetic,  immediately  suggestive  of  the  conceptions  they  desig- 
nate, and  therefore,  with  due  allowance  for  the  habits  and 
knowledge  of  those  who  use  them,  intelligible  without  in- 
struction. To  the  most  prominent  and  important  difference 
between  the  two  allusion  was  made  in  the  last  lecture  :  in 
virtue  of  the  character  of  the  medium  through  which  com- 
munication is  made,  the  earliest  written  signs  denote  concrete 
objects,  while  the  earliest  spoken  signs  denote  the  acts  and 
qualities  of  objects. 

One  of  the  American  nations,  the  Mexican,  had  brought 
the   art   of  picture-writing  to   a  high   state  of  perfection, 

29  * 


452  MEXICAN   AND  [lBCT. 

making  It  serve  tlie  needs  of  a  far  from  despicable  civilization. 
The  germ  of  a  superior  development  whicli  we  saw  in  the 
^o^<?;;i-figurcs  of  the  Indian  depiction  was  in  their  use  made 
to  a  certain  extent  fruitful.  Every  Mexican  name,  whether 
of  place  or  person,  was  composed  of  significant  words, 
and  could  in  most  cases  be  signified  hieroglyphically — • 
just  as  we,  for  instance,  might  signify  '  Mr.  Ai^rowsmith,  of 
Ilull^  by  an  arrow  and  a  human  figure  holding  a  hammer, 
placed  within  or  above  the  hull  of  a  vessel.  So  also,  the 
periods,  of  greater  or  less  length,  which  made  up  their  intric- 
ate and  skilfully  constructed  calendar,  all  derived  their  appel- 
lations from  natural  objects,  and  were  intimated  in  writing 
by  the  figures  of  those  objects.  Thus  the  Mexican  annals 
were  full  of  names  and  dates  composed  of  figures  designating 
the  spoken  signs  of  things ;  and  the  idea  of  a  hieroglyphic 
method  of  writing,  which  should  found  itself  on  spoken  lan- 
guage, following  the  progress  of  oral  narration  and  attempt- 
ing to  signify  this  alone,  lay  apparently  within  their  easy 
reach ;  and  would,  possibly,  have  been  reached  in  due  time, 
had  the  Mexican  culture  been  allowed  to  continue  its  career 
of  progress  uninterfered  with.  Authorities  are  somewhat  at 
variance,  indeed,  as  to  what  was  the  real  condition  and  cha- 
racter of  the  Mexican  picture-writing  at  the  time  of  the 
Conquest,  some  holding  that  it  had  already  become  a  repre- 
sentation of  continuous  spoken  texts.  That  there  was  a 
quite  extensive  Mexican  literature  is  certain ;  but  the  ignor- 
ant fanaticism  and  superstition  of  tlie  Spanish  conquerors 
almost  swept  it  out  of  existence,  destroying  at  the  same 
time  the  key  to  its  comprehension,  which  has  not  yet  been, 
fully  recovered. 

In  Egypt,  the  same  beginnings  have  grown  into  an  institu- 
tion of  quite  a  difierent  character.  The  Egyptian  hiero- 
glyphs, in  even  the  very  earliest  monuments  preserved  to  us, 
form  a  completely  elaborated  system,  of  intricate  constitu- 
tion and  high  development ;  it  undergoes  hardly  a  perceptible 
cliaiige  (hiring  all  the  long  period  covered  by  the  monumental 
records  ;  yet  its  transparency  of  structure  is  such  that  it 
exhibits  in  no  small  degree,  like  the  grammatical  structure 
of  the  Sanskrit  language,  its  own  history.     In  its  origin  and 


XII.]  EGYPTIAN   HIEROaLYPHICS.  4!53 

application,  it  is  peculiarly  a  commemorative  and  monu- 
mental mode  of  writing,  and  it  retains  to  the  last  slTictly  its 
pictorial  form  ;  every  one  of  its  separate  signs  is  the  repre* 
sentation  of  some  visible  object,  however  far  it  may  be  re- 
moved in  use  from  being  a  designation  of  that  object.  It  is 
in  this  respect  like  a  language  which  has  never  forgotten 
the  derivation  of  its  words,  or  corrupted  their  etymological 
form,  however  much  it  may  have  altered  their  meaning.  On 
the  Egyptian  monuments  are  found,  accompanied  and  de- 
scribed by  the  hieroglyphics,  many  and  various  pictorial 
scenes — such  as  kings  besieging  cities  or  leading  trains  of 
captives,  individuals  making  offerings  to  divinities,  souls  un- 
dergoing judgment  and  retribution,  and  other  the  like — all 
of  which  are  cast  in  conventional  form,  and  often  contain 
symbolic  elements  :  their  intent  is  much  more  didactic  than 
artistic  ;  they  are  meant  to  inform  rather  than  to  illustrate  : 
these,  then, are  with  evident  plausibility  assumed  still  to  repre- 
sent the  earliest,  purely  pictorial,  stage  of  Egyptian  writing, 
corresponding  with  that  illustrated  above  by  an  example 
furnished  by  our  own  aborigines  ;  while  the  hieroglyphs  grew 
out  of  the  attempt — also  finding  its  analogue  in  the  totem- 
figureft  of  that  example,  and  still  more  fillly  in  the  Mexican 
delineations — to  designate  and  explain  the  persons  and 
actions  depicted.  The  ways  in  which  this  end  was  attained, 
and  figured  signs  made  indicative  of  names  and  abstract  ideas, 
were  various :  homonymy  and  symbolism  were  both  fei-tile  of 
characters  :  thus,  the  name  of  the  god  Osiris,  Hesiri,  was 
written  by  the  two  figures  of  a  kind  of  seat  (?),  hes,  and  an 
eye,  iri ;  the  figure  of  a  basket,  neh,  signified  also  neb,  '  a 
lord : '  a  hand  pouring  libations  from  a  vase  meant  '  offer  in 
sacrifice  ; '  an  extended  hand  bearing  some  object  meant  tiy 
*  give ; '  the  wallowing  hippopotamus  denoted  '  filth,  inde- 
cency ; '  and  so  on.  But  the  Egyptians  showed  in  this  part 
of  the  development  of  their  system  a  much  higher  aptitude 
than  the  Mexicans  for  analytic  representation,  for  parallel- 
ing", and  then  identifying,  the  process  of  writing  with  that  of 
speaking.  In  the  first  place,  they  came  to  be  able  to  write 
symbolically  such  a  sentence  as  "  Young  !  old !  Q-od  hatea 
indecency,"  by  the  five  figures  of  a  child,  an  old  man,  a  hawk^ 


454  EGYPTIAN  [lECT. 

a  fish,  a  hippopotamus,  placed  one  after  the  other,  while  the 
Mexican  would  have  given  a  synthetic  symbolic  representa- 
tion of  the  action  by  a  picture  of  the  Great  Spirit  chastising 
an  evil-doer,  or  in  some  other  like  way.  But,  in  the  second 
2:)lace,  the  Egyptian  system  had  taken  the  yet  more  important 
step — one  which,  if  followed  up,  would  have  brought  it  to 
the  condition  of  a  real  alphabet— —of  indicating  simple  sounds, 
phonetic  elements,  by  a  part  of  its  figures.  That  such  a  step 
lies  not  far  off"  from  the  homonymic  designation  of  a  thing  by 
something  which  called  to  the  mind  the  sounds  of  which  its 
name  was  composed,  is  evident  enough  ;  still,  no  little  insight 
and  tact  was  needed  in  order  to  bridge  over  and  cross  the 
interval,  and  we  do  not  apprehend  so  fully  as  we  could  desire 
the  details  of  the  movement.  It  appears,  however,  that  the 
figure  of  an  object  was  first  made  to  designate  some  other 
conception  whose  name  agreed  with  its  own  in  the  conso- 
nantal elements,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  more  variable  vowels  ; 
and  then,  by  a  farther  abstraction,  instead  of  designating 
thus  a  part  of  the  phonetic  elements  of  its  own  name,  it 
came  to  signify  the  initial  element  only,  whether  consonant 
or  vowel.  Por  example,  the  figure  of  a  lion,  laho,  is  used  to 
represent  I ;  that  of  an  eagle,  akom,  to  represent  a.  Proper 
names  are  written  almost  exclusively  in  this  style  of  cha- 
racters, and  the  decipherment  of  the  names  Ftolemy  and 
Cleopatra  on  the  inscription  of  the  famous  Eosetta  stone,  as 
set  down  distinctly  in  pure  phonetic  signs,  was  the  first  step 
in  our  recovery  of  the  key  to  the  hieroglyphs.  In  ordinary 
texts,  the  phonetic,  homonymic,  and  symbolical  characters 
are  intricately  mingled,  variously  aiding,  explaining,  and  sup- 
plementing one  another's  meaning.  Thus,  the  signs  for 
Osiris  {Hesiri),  already  given,  are  always  accompanied  by 
the  figure  of  a  peculiar  hammer  or  hatchet,  which  some  un- 
known reason  has  made  one  of  the  standard  symbols  of 
divinity;  the  verb  ti,  'give,'  having  been  once  written  pho- 
netically, lias  the  symbolic  outstretched  arm  with  gift  added 
by  way  of  farther  explanation  ;  and  so  on. 

In  monumental,  and  to  some  extent  also  in  literary  use, 
the  hieroglyphs  maintained,  .as  already  remarked,  their  picto- 
rial form  unaltered,  as  long  as  the  kingdom  and  civilization 


XII.]  MODES   OF    WRITING.  455 

of  Egypt  lad  an  existence :  reverence  for  ancient  custom,  aa 
well  as  their  peculiar  adaptedness  to  the  purposes  of  archi- 
tectural decoration,  to  which  they  were  so  largely  applied, 
preserved  them  from  corrupting  change.  But  how  easily, 
under  the  exigencies  of  familiar  practical  use,  a  true  alphabet 
might  have  grown  out  of  this  cumbrous,  long-winded,  and 
intricate  mode  of  writing,  is  shown  in  the  history  of  its  two 
derivative  forms,  the  hieratic,  and  the  demotic  or  enchorial. 
The  former,  the  hieratic,  is  simply  an  abbreviated  and  cursive 
style  of  hieroglyphic,  in  which  each  figure  is  represented  by 
a  part  of  its  outline,  or  otherwise  so  altered  as  to  be  hardly- 
recognizable.  It  was  the  common  written  character  of  the 
priests  and  sacred  scribes,  from  a  very  early  period.  The 
demotic  was  a  still  later  adaptation  of  the  same,  and  has  lost 
all  relics  of  a  pictorial  character,  being  composed  of  a  limited, 
though  large  and  unwieldy,  number  of  arbitrary  signs,  chiefly 
phonetic.  AVhat  farther  improvement  and  reduction  toward 
a  true  alphabetic  form  the  demotic  might  in  time  have  under- 
gone, we  cannot  tell.  For  Grreek  influence  and  Christianity 
came  in  to  interrupt  the  regular  course  of  development ; 
the  Christian  Coptic  literature,  casting  aside  the  native 
modes  of  writing,  adopted  a  new  alphabet,  founded  upon  the 
Greek. 

The  history  of  writing  in  China,  although  its  final  products 
are  in  appearance  so  different  from  the  Egyptian  hieroglyphs, 
goes  back  to  a  very  similar  origin.  The  Chinese  themselves, 
with  that  love  for  historical  research  and  record  and  the 
explanation  of  subsisting  institutions  which  has  always  dis- 
tinguished them,  have  set  down  for  our  benefit  all  the  steps 
of  the  process  by  which  their  immense  and  unique  system  of 
signs  has  been  elaborated  out  of  its  scanty  beginnings ;  and 
both  product  and  process  present  more  numerous  and  strik- 
ing analogies  with  spoken  language  and  its  growth  than  are 
to  be  found  anywhere  else  in  the  whole  history  of  written 
characters.  We  have  already  noticed  the  Chinese  tradition 
that  their  earliest  ancestors  used  knotted  cords  as  a  means  of 
communication  and  record.  Their  first  written  si^ns  were 
no  development  out  of  these^  but  a  substitution  for  them. 
They  were,  like  the  Egyptian  hieroglyphs,  simple  pictures  of 


456  THE    CHINESE  [LECT* 

the  objects  represented :  sucli  are,  in  fiict,  tlie  beginnings  of 
every  system  of  written  signs  for  thought,  not  less  necessarily 
than  onoinatopootie  utterances,  designating  acts  and  qualities, 
are  the  beginnings  of  every  system  of  spoken  signs.  Thus, 
the  sun  was  denoted  by  a  circle  with  a  point  within,  the 
moon  by  a  crescent,  a  mountain  by  a  ti'iple  peak,  a  tree  and 
a  man  by  rude  figures  representing  their  forms,  and  so  on. 
Signs  were  provided  thus  for  a  considerable  number  of 
natural  objects ;  those,  namely,  which  are  most  familiarly 
noted  and  most  easily  depicted.  But  such  cannot  supply 
otherwise  than  in  small  part  the  needs  of  a  written  language, 
any  more  than  onomatopoetic  signs  those  of  a  spoken  lan- 
guage. Their  store  was  notably  increased  by  the  com- 
pounding of  two  or  more  simple  signs ;  as  the  vocabulary  of 
a  language  by  the  composition  of  spoken  elements.  Por 
example,  the  signs  for  '  mountain '  and  '  man,'  put  together, 
siguilied  '  hermit ; '  those  for  '  eye  '  and  '  water  '  signified 
'  tear  ; '  those  for  '  woman,'  '  hand,'  and  '  broom,'  meant 
'  housekeeper.'  A  sim.ple  symbolism  often  came  in  to  aid, 
both  in  the  case  of  single  and  of  compound  signs.  A  banner 
pointing  one  way  signified  '  left ; '  the  other  way,  '  right ;  * 
an  ear  between  t\T0  doors  gave  the  meaning  of  '  listen  ; ' 
*  sun  '  and  '  moon,'  taken  together,  indicated  '  light ; '  '  moutli  * 
and  '  bird '  made  up  '  song,'  and  so  on.  This  is  equivalent 
to  the  transfer  of  meaning  of  a  word,  effected  through  a 
BJmple  association.  But  the  most  abundant  means  of  multi- 
plication of  the  resources  of  Chinese  expression  was  found  in 
tlie  introduction  of  a  phonetic  principle,  and  the  combination 
of  phonetic  and  ideographic  elements  into  a  compound  sign. 
The  language,  as  w^e  saw  in  the  ninth  lecture,  is  full  of 
homonyms,  words  identical  in  phonetic  form  but  of  ditferent 
meaning :  a  sign  being  found  for  a  word  in  one  of  its  many 
senses,  either  by  direct  representation  or  by  symbolism,  the 
device  was  very  naturally  suggested  of  making  the  same  sign 
answer  for  some  of  its  other  meanings  also,  by  the  aid  of  an 
appended  diacritical  sign.  It  was  quite  as  if  we,  for  instance, 
liad  learned  to  signify  sound  in  "safe  and  sound  ^*  symbol- 
ically by  a  circle  (as  being  peculiarly  the  complete,  unbroken 
figure),   and  had  then    sutfered   it   to   represent  the    same 


XII.J  MODE    OP    WRITIJS'G.  457 

phonetic  compound  in  its  otlier  senses,  distinguisMng  eaeli 
by  some  suggestive  mark  :  thus,  adding  an  ear  on  either  side 
might  make   it  signify   '  sound,  audible  noise ; '   a  sign  for 

*  water '  written  within  it  would  intimate  the  meaning  of 

*  sound,  an  arm  of  the  sea ; '  a  depending  line  and  plummet, 
that  of  '  sound,  to  try  the  depth  of  anything.'  For  example, 
there  is  in  China  a  certain  simple  sign  having  the  pronuncia- 
tion pe,  and  meaning  '  white  '  (what  the  object  represented 
is,  and  in  virtue  of  what  property  it  was  chosen  to  signify 
this  conception,  is  now  no  longer  known)  ;  then,  with  the 
sign  for  '  tree '  prefixed,  it  means  ^ pe,  a  kind  of  cypress  ; ' 
with  the  sign  for  '  man,'  it  means  ^ pe,  elder  brother  ; '  with 
the  sign  for  '  manes,'  it  means  ^  pe,  the  vital  principle  in  its 
existence  after  death : '  and  so  forth.  Some  signs  are  thus 
very  extensively  used  to  form  compound  characters,  in  con- 
nection with  various  others  that  bear  a  phonetic  value  in  the 
compound  ;  two  of  those  already  instanced  are  among  the 
most  common  of  them  :  the  sign  for  '  man  '  enters  into  nearly 
six  hundred  combinations,  all  denoting  something  that  has  a 
special  relation  to  man ;  that  for  *  tree  '  enters  into  more 
than  nine  hundred,  which  denote  kinds  of  trees,  wood  and 
things  made  of  wood,  and  such  like  matters.  Their  analogy 
with  the  formative  elements  of  spoken  language  is  very 
evident ;  they  are  signs  which  limit  the  general  value  of  the 
phonetic  radical,  putting  it  in  a  certain  class  or  category  of 
meanings. 

The  Chinese  mode  of  writing,  unlike  the  Egyptian,  has 
been  ready  to  forget  and  lose  sight  of  its  hieroglyphic  origin, 
to  convert  its  characters,  when  once  the  needed  association 
was  formed  between  them  and  their  significance,  into  signs 
wholly  conventional,  bearing  no  traceable  resemblance  to  the 
objects  they  originally  depicted,  and  made  liable  to  any 
modifications  which  practical  convenience,  or  a  sense  for 
symmetry,  or  mere  fancy,  should  suggest  and  recommend. 
In  this,  again,  it  ofi'ers  a  manifest  analogy  with  what  we  have 
repeatedly  shown  to  be  the  legitimate  and  laudable  tendency 
of  spoken  language.  The  characters  have  passed  through  a 
variety  of  transitional  forms  on  their  way  to  that  in  which 
they  are  at  present  ordinarily  written,  and  which  was  itself 


468  CHINESE    WRITING.  [lECT. 

established  more  than  a  thousand  years  since  :  some  of  these 
intermediate  forms  are  still  preserved  in  monuments  and 
ancient  documents,  and  to  a  certain  extent  even  now  em- 
])loyed  for  special  uses — as  the  older  phases  of  many  a  spoken 
tongue  are  kept  to  the  knowledge  of  posterity  by  like 
means  ;  and  as  a  Frenchman,  for  example,  of  the  present  day 
may  clothe  his  thoughts,  upon  occasion,  in  an  Old  French  or 
a  Latin  dress.  Their  current  shape  has  been  determined 
maiidy  by  the  customary  instruments  of  writing  and  the 
manner  of  their  use — these  have  exercised  all  the  modifying 
and  adapting  force  which  in  a  spoken  tongue  belongs  to  a 
powerful  euphonic  tendency,  like  that  which  has  made  all 
Italian  words  end  in  vowels,  and  has  worn  off  from  French 
vocables  the  syllables  which  followed  after  the  accented  one 
in  their  Latin  originals.  And  so  thoroughly  has  their  hiero- 
glyphic origin  been  covered  up  and  concealed  by  these  trans- 
formations that  no  one,  from  their  present  aspect,  would 
venture  even  to  conjecture  that  they  had  started  from  out- 
lines of  natural  objects ;  nor  would  the  older  preserved 
documents  suffice  to  prove  this  ;  the  truth  lay  only  within 
reach  of  the  Chinese  themselves,  as  having  access  to  tradi- 
tional information  from  yet  more  ancient  times.  We  have 
no  right  to  be  surprised,  then,  if  the  onomatopoetic  begin- 
nings of  speech,  dating  from  a  period  compared  with  which 
the  origin  of  Chinese  writing  is  but  as  yesterday,  are  no 
longer  to  be  distinctly  traced  in  the  worn  and  altered  facts 
of  such  lanjjuage  as  is  now  accessible  to  our  researches. 

Another  set  of  causes  has  powerfully  influenced  the  de- 
velopment of  the  Chinese  written  expression  :  namely,  the 
])Ovcrty  of  the  spoken  tongue,  and  the  felt  need  of  giving  it 
an  aid  and  support  from  without.  The  system  of  signs  com- 
])ines  a  phonetic  and  ideographic  nature  in  a  manner 
])eculiarly  its  own.  It  is  rather  an  auxiliary  language,  than 
a  reduction  of  speech  to  writing.  It  supplies  the  defects 
and  removes  the  ambiguities  of  the  language  it  represents  ; 
it  might  be  learned  and  used  without  any  regard  paid  to  ita 
phonetic  equivalents  j  and  if  the  Chinese  were  but  willing  to 
forego  converse  by  the  tongue  and  ear,  substituting  for  them 
the   hand  and  eye,  it  would  answer  the  purposes  of  their 


XII.]  CUNEIFORM    CHARACTERS.  459 

ccimmunlcation  vastly  better,  witbi  its  forty  thousand  sign^  for 
ideas,  than  the  spoken  means  now  chiefly  employed,  with  ita 
scant  thousand  or  two.  While  the  uttered  vocabulary  of  the 
Chinese  is  one  of  the  poorest  in  the  world,  their  written  one 
is  eminently  rich  and  abundant.  This  farther  analogy  with 
spoken  languages  it  has,  that,  as  was  in  the  first  lecture 
(p.  18)  shown  to  be  true  of  the  latter,  only  a  part  of  its 
resources  are  required  for  the  ordinary  uses  of  life :  not 
more  than  eight  or  ten  thousand  of  its  characters  are  other- 
wise than  very  rare,  and  all  common  needs  are  supplied  by 
from  three  to  five  thousand. 

One  more  important  mode  of  writing  is  said  to  be  dis- 
tinctly traceable  to  a  hieroglyphic  origin :  namely,  the 
cuneiform,  the  character  of  the  monuments  of  Mesopotamia 
and  the  neighbouring  countries.  Its  signs  are  made  up  of 
various  combinations  of  wedge-shaped  elements  :  hence  the 
name  "cuneiform"  (from  Latin  cuueiformis,  'wedge-shaped'); 
they  are  also  sometimes  called  "  arrow-headed  characters," 
from  the  same  peculiarity.  There  are  several  different 
cuneiform  alphabets,  the  older  of  them  being  exceedingly 
intricate  and  difficult,  made  up  of  phonetic,  ideographic,  and 
symbolic  signs,  variously  intermingled  ;  and  sometimes  far- 
ther complicated,  it  is  said,  with  combinations  which  were 
phonetic  in  the  language  for  which  they  were  originated,  and 
have  been  transferred  to  the  use  of  another  with  their  old 
meaning,  but  a  different  spoken  value  (somewhat,  as  has  been 
pointed  out,  as  we  write  viz.,  an  abbreviation  of  Latin 
videlicet,  and  read  it  "  namely  ").  Much  that  regards  the  his- 
tory and  relations  of  the  different  systems  of  cuneiform  cha- 
racters is,  and  may  always  remain,  obscure  :  but  it  is  con- 
fidently claimed  that  evidences  are  found  which  prove  their 
beginnings  to  have  been  pictorial  ;  and  the  peculiar  form  of 
their  component  elements  is  fully  recognized  as  a  consequence 
of  the  way  in  whi^h  they  were  originally  written — namely, 
b}  pressure  of  the  corner  of  a  square-ended  instrument  upon 
tablets  of  soft  clay  ;  these  being  afterwards  dried  or  burned, 
to  make  the  record  permanent.  That,  through  such  inter- 
mediate steps  even  as  these,  a  hieroglyphic  system  may 
finally  pass  over  into  one  truly  alphabetic,  is  shown  by  the 


460  SYLLABIC  METHODS.  [lECT. 

derivation  from  the  Mesopotamian  cuneiform  of  the  Persian, 
which  is  by  far  the  simplest  and  the  best  understood  of  all 
the  systems  'of  its  class,  being  purely  phonetic  and  almost 
purely  alphabetic.  It  contains  about  thirty-five  signs  of 
simple  sounds,  some  of  those  for  the  consonants  being  par- 
tially of  a  "syllabic  character — that  is  to  say,  being  different 
according  as  the  consonant  was  to  be  followed  by  one  or  an- 
other vowel.  In  this  simpler  cuneiform  are  written  the 
Achsemenidan  inscriptions,  of  which  we  have  already  more 
than  once  had  occasion  to  take  notice,  as  preserving  to  us  an 
Indo-European  dialect.  The  history  of  its  formation  is  un- 
known. 

I  have  called  the  Achsemenidan  cuneiform  a  partially  syl- 
labic mode  of  writing ;  and  syllabic  systems  have  played  so 
important  and  prominent  a  part  in  the  general  history  of 
writing — in  the  main,  traceably  as  derivatives  from  methods 
of  a  different  character — that  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  pay 
them  here  a  little  special  attention.  A  pure  syllabic  alpha- 
bet is  one  whose  letters  represent  syllables,  instead  of  articu- 
lations ;  which  makes  an  imperfect  phonetic  analysis  of 
words,  not  into  the  simple  sounds  that  compose  them,  but 
into  thfeir  syllabic  elements ;  which  does  not  separate  the 
vowel  from  its  attendant  consonant  or  consonants,  but  de- 
notes both  together  by  an  indivisible  sign.  Such  an  analysis 
is  more  natural  and  easy  to  make  than  one  which  distin- 
guishes all  the  phonetic  elements — especially  in  the  case  of 
languages  of  a  simple  structure,  which  do  not  fiivour  difficult 
consonantal  combinations,  and  therefore  make  up  but  a  limited 
number  of  syllables.  Many  times,  accordingly,  when  some 
race  has  made  acquaintance  with  the  art  of  writing  as  prac- 
tised by  another,  and,  instructed  and  incited  by  the  lattor'a 
example,  has  set  about  representing  its  own  spoken  tongue 
by  written  signs,  it  has  fallen  first  upon  the  syllabic  method. 
One  of  the  most  noted  alphabets  of  this  kind  is  the  Japanese 
kata-kaua,  or  irofa  (so  called  from  the  names  of  its  first 
signs,  like  alphabet,  from  alpha,  beta),  to  which  we  have 
already  once  had  occasion  to  allude  (in  the  ninth  lecture); 
it  was  made  out  of  fragtvicnts  of  Chinese  characters,  and  con- 
tained forty-seven  different  signs,  one  for  each  of  the  syl- 


XII.]  ANCIENT   SEMITIC   ALPHABET.  461 

lables  of  whicli  tlie  Japanese  words  were  made  up :  for  tlie 
jspckeii  alpha'  et  of  tlie  language  then  included  only  ten 
consonants  and  five  vowels,  and  no  syllable  contained  more 
than  one  vowel,  with  a  single  preceding  consonant.  A 
similar  alphabet  was  devised  for  the  Cherokee  language,  not 
many  years  ago,  by  an  ingenious  member  of  the  tribe,  George 
Guess,  who,  though  he  had  never  learned  to  read  English,  had 
seen  and  possessed  English  books,  and  knew  in  general  what 
was  their  use  :  it  contained  eightv-five  sio;ns,  mostlv  fashioned 
out  of  English  letters,  though  with  total  disregard  of  their 
original  value. 

Another  and  a  less  pure  form  of  syllabic  alphabet  is  that 
which  treats  the  consonant  alone  as  the  sub^stantial  part  of 
the  syllable,  and  looks  upon  the  vowel  as  something  of  sub- 
ordinate consequence — as  it  were,  a  colouring  or  affection  of 
the  consonant.  In  its  view,  then,  only  the  consonant  has  a 
right  to  be  written,  or  to  be  written  in  full ;  the  accompany- 
ing vowel,  if  taken  note  of  at  all,  must  be  indicated  by  some 
less  conspicuous  sign,  attached  to  the  consonant.  Peculiar 
and  arbitrary  as  this  mode  of  conceiving  of  the  syllable  may 
seem  to  us,  it  is  historically  of  the  highest  importance ;  for 
npon  it  was  founded  the  construction  of  the  ancient  Semitic 
alphabet,  which  has  been  the  parent  of  the  methods  of  writing 
used  by  the  great  majority  of  enlightened  nations,  since  the 
beginning  of  history.  It  is  not  diilicult  to  see  how  the  cha- 
racter of  Semitic  language  should  have  prompted,  or  at  least 
favoured,  such  an  estimate  of  the  comparative  value  of  vowel 
and  consonant.  In  Semitic  roots  and  words  (as  was  explained 
in  the  eighth  lecture),  the  consonants  are  the  principally  sig- 
nificant, the  substantial,  element ;  the  vowels  bear  a  subor- 
dinate office,  that  of  indicating,  as  formative  elements,  the 
modifications  and  relations  of  the  radical  idea  ;  the  former  are 
stable  and  invariable,  the  latter  liable  to  constant  change. 
Perhaps  we  should  not  be  going  too  far,  if  we  were  to  say  that 
only  a  language  so  constructed  could  have  originally  suggested 
such  an  alphabet.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  ancient  Semitic 
alphabet — of  which  the  Pheuician  is  the  generally  accepted 
type,  being,  whether  original  or  not.  its  oldest  traceable  form 
—was  a  system  of  twenty-two  signs,  all  of  them   possessing 


462  PHENICIAN   ALPHABET  [lKCT 

consonantal  value  :  three,  however — namely,  the  signs  for  th^ 
semi-vowels  y  and  it',  and  for  what  we  may  call  the  "  smooth 
hreathint^ " — partaking  somewhat  of  a  vowel  character,  and 
being  under  certain  circumstances  convertible  into  represent- 
atives of  the  vowels,  /,  ?/,  and  a. 

The  Pheuician  alphabet  was  thus  strictly  and  exclusively 
a  phonetic  system,  though  one  of  a  peculiar  and  defective 
type.  AYe  cannot  possibly  regard  it,  therefore,  as  an  imme- 
diate and  original  invention ;  it  must  have  passed,  in  the 
hands  either  of  the  Semites  themselves  or  of  some  other  people, 
through  the  usual  preliminary  stages  of  a  pictorial  or  hiero- 
glyphic mode  of  writing.  More  probably,  its  elements  were- 
borrov^ed  from  one  or  another  of  the  nations,  of  yet  earlier  civil- 
ization, by  whom  we  know  the  Semitic  races  to  have  been  sur- 
rounded, before  they  entered  on  t^  •^ir  own  historic  career.  The 
traditional  names  of  its  characters  /ire  the  reco<]jnizable  appella- 
tions of  natural  objects,  and  each  name  has  for  its  initial  letter 
that  sound  which  is  designated  by  the  character:  thus,  the  sign 
for  h  is  called  heth.,  '  house  ; '  that  for  y,  gimel,  '  camel  •, '  that 
for  d,  daleth,  '  door  ; '  in  some  cases,  moreover,  a  degree  of  re- 
8enil)huice  is  traceable  between  the  form  of  the  letter  and  the 
figure  of  the  object  whose  name  it  bears.  This,  so  far  as  it 
goes,  would  evidently  point  toward  that  application  of  the 
hieroglyphic  principle  wliich,  as  we  saw  above  (p.  454),  made 
the  figures  of  the  lion  and  eagle  represent  in  Egyptian  use 
the  letters  I  and  a.  The  subject  of  the  ultimate  history  of 
the  Phenician  alphabet,  however,  is  too  obscure  and  too  much 
controverted  for  us  to  enter  here  into  its  discussion;  investi- 
gations of  it  have  reached  hitherto  no  satisfactory  results. 

The  dift'usion  which  this  alphabet  and  its  derivatives  have 
attained  is  truly  wonderful.  From  it  come,  directly  or  in- 
directly^ the  three  principal  Semitic  alphabets,  the  Hebrew, 
the  Syriac,  and  tlie  Arabic,  the  last  of  which  has  gained 
currency  over  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  OKI  World,  being 
employed  by  nations  of  diverse  race,  Indo-Eu)-opean  (Persian, 
Afghan,  and  Hindustani),  Scythian  (Turkish),  and  Polynesian 
(Malay)  ;  while  the  Syriac  has  spread,  through  the  Uigur 
Turkish,  Mongol,  and  Manchu,  to  the  farthest  north-easteru 
Asia.     The  eastern  Iranian  and  the  Indian  alphabets  have 


XII.]  AND    ITS   DERIVATIVES.  463 

been  traced,  tliougli  more  doubtfully, -to  tbe  same  source ;  and 
India,  especially,  has  been  a  home  where  it  has  developed  into 
new  and  richer  forms,  and  whence  it  has  been  extended  over 
a  vast  region,  in  Asia  and  the  islands  lying  southward  from 
Asia — reaching  at  last,  in  its  remote  derivatives,  conditions  as 
unlike  to  the  original  and  to  one  another  as  are  the  late 
dialects  of  a  widely  disseminated  family  of  languages.  In 
nearly  all  these  countries,  through  all  its  various  metamor- 
phoses, it  has  held  fast,  in  the  main,  to  its  primitive  character 
of  a  consonantal  alphabet,  with  omission,  or  with  partial  or 
subordinated  designation,  of  the  vowels.  But  in  its  progress 
in  the  other  direction,  toward  Europe,  it  fell  first  into  the 
bands  of  the  Greeks ;  and  from  them  it  received  its  final  per- 
fection, by  the  provision  of  signs  enabling  it  to  represent  tho 
vowels  not  less  distinctly  than  the  consonants.  In  the  Grreek 
alphabet,  for  the  first  time  in  all  our  review  of  the  history  of 
written  speech,  we  find  realized  what  we  cannot  but  regard  as 
the  true  ideal  of  a  mode  of  writing — namely,  that  it  be  simply 
a  faithful  representation  of  spoken  speech,  furnishing  a  visible 
sign  for  every  audible  sound  that  the  voice  utters,  not  attempt- 
ing to  distinguish  any  class  of  sounds  as  of  more  importance 
than  another,  nor  to  set  itself  up  as  an  independent  instru- 
mentality for  the  conveyance  of  thought  by  overpassing  tho 
limits  of  utterance,  and  assuming  to  give  more  or  other  than, 
the  voice  gives  in  speaking. 

From  the  Greek  alphabet  have  been  derived,  by  modifica- 
tions and  adaptations  of  greater  or  less  consequence,  several 
others,  used  by  peoples  of  each  of  the  grand  divisions  of  the 
eastern  continent — as  the  Coptic  of  later  Egypt,  already 
referred  to,  and  the  Armenian ;  the  runes  of  some  of  the 
Germanic  tribes  also,  and  the  early  Celtic  modes  of  writing, 
trace  their  origin  back  to  it,  mainly  through  the  Latin ;  as 
does  the  modern  Eussian,  the  most  ungainly  and  unsymmetri- 
cai,  perhaps,  of  all  its  descendants.  But  the  Latin  alphabet 
itself  is  beyond  all  comparison  the  most  important  of  its 
derivative  forms.  The  Greek  colonies  of  southern  Italy  were 
the  means  of  bringing  Greek  letters  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  peninsula,  and  several  of  the  Italian  nations 
— the  Etruscans,  Umbrians.  and  Oscans,  as  well  as  the  Latins 


464  THE    GREEK    ALPHABET.  [lECT. 

— provided  themselves  with  alphabets  derived  from  the  Greek. 
All  these  excepting  the  last  have  passed  away,  along  with  the 
nationalities  and  languages  to  which  they  belonged ;  but  the 
Latin  alphabet  has  become  the  common  property  of  nearly  all 
the  enlightened  nations  of  modern  times  whose  civilization  is 
derived  from  that  of  Greece  and  Eome  ;  while,  under  European 
influence,  its  use  has  also  extended  and  is  extending  among 
the  races  of  inferior  endowments  and  culture,  even  crowding 
out,  to  some  extent,  their  indigenous  and  less  convenient 
modes  of  writing:. 

Our  examination  of  the  history  of  writing  might  here 
properly  enough  be  closed ;  yet  the  particular  interest  which 
we  take  in  our  own  alphabet  will  justify  us  in  delaying  a 
little,  to  note  the  principal  steps  of  the  process  by  which  it 
has  been  derived  from  the  Phenician — so  far,  at  least,  as  it  is 
possible  to  do  this  without  graphic  illustration.  "\Ye  shall 
also  thus  see  more  clearly  how  a  borrowed  system  is  wont  to 
be  modified  and  expanded,  in  passing  from  the  service  of  one 
language  into  that  of  anotlier.  There  is  never  a  precise 
accordance  between  the  phonetic  systems,  the  spoken  alpha- 
bets, of  any  two  languages,  so  that  a  written  alphabet  which 
suits  the  one  can  be  immediately  applied  to  the  other's  uses ; 
and  hence  the  history  of  every  scheme  of  characters  which  has 
won  a  wide  currency,  among  various  nations,  presents  a 
succession  of  adaptations,  more  or  less  wisely  and  skilfully 
made. 

Tiie  cliief  change  wrought  upon  the  Phenician  alphabet  by 
the  Greeks  consisted,  as  has  been  already  ])oiuted  out,  in  the 
provision  of  signs  for  the  vowels.  The  Semitic  tongues,  as  com- 
pared with  the  Greek,  were  characterized  by  an  excess  of 
guttural  and  sibilant  sounds  :  the  superfluous  signs  represent- 
ing these,  then,  were  put  to  divers  new  uses  in  Greece;  our 
A,  E,  and  0  were  to  the  Phenicians  designations  of  certain 
guttural  breathings,  having  the  value  of  consonants  ;  the  semi- 
vowel y  being  wanting  in  Greek,  its  sign  was  greatly  altered 
and  simplified  to  form  our  I ;  the  sign  for  to  was  retained  by 
tiie  early  Greeks  as  the  dujamma  (though  abandoned  later)  ; 
for  «,  they  invented  a  wholl}'  new  character,  V  or  Y  (whii.'h 
are  by  origin  only  varying  graphic  forms  of  the  same  letter). 


J 


HI.]  THE   LATIN   ALPHABET.  465 

The  other  Greek  alterations  and  additions  may  be  passed  over, 
as  of  less  account. 

The  Latin  alphabet  was  taken  from  one  of  the  ohier  forma 
of  the  G-reek,  before  the  characters  of  the  hitter  had  assumed 
in  all  points  the  form  and  value  with  which  we  are  most 
familiar — wben  the  H,  for  example,  had  still  its  value  as  a 
breathing,  and  had  not  been  converted  into  a  long  e.  The 
system  of  spoken  sounds  for  which  the  Latin  required  written 
representatives  was  but  a  simple  one  :  to  the  fifteen  articula- 
tions which,  as  we  saw  in  the  seventh  lecture  (p.  265),  had  been 
the  primitive  possession  of  the  Indo-European  family,  it  had 
added  but  three,  the  mcviial  vowels  e  and  o,  and  the  labial 
spirant/"  (it  had,  indeed,  the  semivowels  y  and  w  also,  but  did 
not  distinguish  them  in  writing  from  the  vowels  i  and  u,  with 
which  they  are  so  nearly  identical  :  I  and  J,  TJ  and  V,  are  but 
graphic  variations  of  the  same  sign).  Nearly  all  the  Latin 
letters  are  the  same  with  the  Grretk,  or  differ  from  them  only 
by  slight  diversities  of  form  :  but  one  or  two  points  of  dis- 
cordance need  a  word  of  explanation.  The  Latin  system  ia 
most  peculiar  in  rejecting  the  K,  which  was  found  in  every 
Greek  alphabet,  of  whatever  period  or  locality,  and  in  writing 
both  its  k  and  g  sounds  at  first  by  a  single  letter,  C,  the 
ancient  sign  for  the  y-sound  only :  then,  when  it  came  to  it- 
self, and  felt  again  the  need  of  a  separate  designation  for  each, 
it  knew  no  better  than  to  retain  the  C  for  the  ^--sound,  and  to 
add  a  diacritical  mark  at  its  lower  end,  making  a  G,  for  the 
purpose  of  denoting  the  corresponding  sonant,  g.  By  a  some- 
what similar  process  of  transfer,  we  have  come  to  write  the 
p-sound  by  the  sign,  P,  which  formerly  belonged  to  the  r : 
when  the  older  sign  for^,  F,  had  assumed  a  shape  so  nearly 
agreeing  with  the  P  that  the  two  were  not  readily  distinguished 
from  one  another,  a  tag  was  hung  upon  the  crook  of  the  latter 
as  a  further  diacritical  mark,  and  it  was  thus  made  into  R. 
For  the  y^sound,  the  ancient  sign  for  w,  the  Greek  digammay 
F,  was  somewhat  arbitrarily  adopted,  its  only  special  recom- 
mendation being  that  both  w  and  f  were  labials.  The  Ok 
represents  an  old  Phenician  letter,  a  deeper  guttural  than  k, 
r*?jected  by  the  later  Greek  alphabets  as  superfluous — and 
really  no  better  than  superfluous  in  the  Latin,  where  the  pro- 

30 


40(j  THE    ENGLISH   ALPHABET.  [lECT. 

nunciation  of  the  ^-sound  before  u  did  not  differ  enourjh  from 
its  prununeiation  before  a  and  o  to  call  for.an  independent 
notation.  Of  the  remaining  three  Latin  letters,  the  X  is  a 
Greek  invention  (used  in  some  Greek  alphabets  also  with  its 
Latin  value,  or  representing  xi,  instead  of  chi),  and,  as  stand- 
ing for  the  double  sound  ks,  not  less  needless  than  Q,;  Y  and 
Z  are  later  importations  out  of  the  Greek  alphabet,  and  used 
only  in  Greek  words,  to  signify  peculiar  Greek  sounds  (the 
Greek  upsilon  having  by  this  time  changed  its  value  of  u  for 
that  of  the  French  u,  German  u). 

The  changes  which  we,  in  our  turn,  have  introduced  into 
the  Latin  alphabet,  in  adapting  it  to  our  purposes,  are  not  in- 
significant, although  far  from  being  enough  to  make  it  repre- 
sent our  spoken  language  as  fully  and  consistently  as  it 
formerly  did  that  of  the  Eomans.  Besides  the  eighteen 
articulations  of  the  early  Konums,  we  have  (as  was  shown 
above,  in  the  third  lecture)  at  least  fourteen  others  which 
call  more  or  less  imperatively  for  separate  designation.  There 
are  the  a  of  cat  and  care,  the  a  of  what  and  «//,  and  the  u  of 
cut  and  curl ;  there  are  the  two  semi- vowel  sounds,  y  and  w, 
the  palatal  nasal  (which  we  comnjonly  write  with  tig,  as  ia 
singinrj^,  the  three  sibilants,  z,  sh,  and  zh  (the  z  of  azure),  the 
two  sounds  of  th,  in  thin  and  thine,  and  the  v  of  valve  ;  and, 
finally,  the  compound  consonants  ch  (in  church)  and  j  (in 
judge).  Some  of  these  needs  we  have  mauai^ed  to  provide 
for :  we  have  turned  the  two  forms  of  the  Latin  i,  I  and  J, 
into  two  separate  letters,  with  very  diflerent  values ;  we  have 
done  tlie  same  thing  with  the  two  forms  of  u,  V  and  IT,  con- 
verting the  former  into  a  sign  for  the  sonant  labial  spirant  ; 
by  doubling  the  same  character,  we  have  made  one  wholly 
new  letter,  w,  for  the  labial  semi-vowel  ;  and  we  have  utilizrd 
y  aud  z,  as  senu-vowel  and  sonant  sibilant.  AV'e  have  also 
bi ought  k  back  into  its  old  place — yet  without  perceptible 
gain,  since  its  introduction  makes  c  superfluous  ;  k,  c,  and  *• 
having  but  two  sounds  to  designate  among  tliem.  The  new 
characters  which  the  Anglo-Saxons  had  devised  for  expressing 
tlie  two  ///-sounds  we  have  unfortunately  sulfcred  to  go  out 
of  UNC  auain.  And  q  and  x  are  still  as  useless  tc?  us  as  they 
were  of  old  to  the  Ivouuius,      Hence,  we  have   virtually  onlj 


XII.]  ENGLISH    ORTHOGRAPHY.  467 

twenty-three  letters  wherewith  to  write  at  least  thirty-two 
sounds.  In  the  process  of  phonetic  change,  whose  tendency 
is  always  toward  the  increase  of  tlie  spoken  alphabet,  the  fill- 
ing up  of  the  system  of  articulated  sounds  by  the  distinction 
of  slighter  and  more  nicely  differentiated  shades  of  articula- 
tion, our  spoken  alphabet  has  very  notably  outgrown  the 
limits  of  our  written  alphabet. 

To  this  cause  are  to  be  attributed,  in  part,  the  anomalies  of 
our  orthography.  But  only  in  the  lesser  part.  If  an  alphabet 
is  hardly  able  to  enlarge  itself  to  the  dimensions  of  a  growing 
body  of  sounds,  it  is  because  men  do  not  easily  learn  to  write 
their  words  otherwise  than  as  they  have  been  accustomed  to 
do,  even  when  they  have  learned  to  pronounce  them  otherwise 
• — and  the  same  cause  operates  in  other  ways  yet  more  effect- 
ually to  bring  about  a  discordance  between  the  spoken  and 
the  written  language.  It  has  been  the  misfortune  of  the 
English  to  pass,  during  its  written  period,  through  the  most 
important  crisis  in  its  history,  its  mixture  with  the  Norman 
French,  also  a  written  tongue :  not  only  were  the  discordant 
orthographic  usages  of  the  two  thus  forced  together  within 
the  limits  of  the  same  language,  but  a  period  of  both  orthoepic 
and  orthographic  confusion  was  introduced — and  the  ortho- 
graphic confusion  has  been,  in  great  measure,  only  stereo- 
typed, not  remedied,  by  the  usage  of  later  times. 

We  of  the  present  age  have  thus  been  in  a  measure  de- 
prived, not  by  our  ow^n  fault,  of  the  advantages  belonging  to  a 
phonetic  mode  of  writing — advantages  which  seemed  to  have 
been  secured  to  us  by  the  joint  labours  of  so  many  races  and 
80  many  generations.  And  yet,  we  are  not  altogether  without 
fault  in  the  matter,  for  we  are  consenting  unto  the  deeds  of 
our  fathers  and  predecessors.  As  a  community,  we  are  not 
content  with  accepting  as  inevitable  our  orthographical  in- 
heritance, and  resolving  to  make  the  best  of  it,  despite  its 
defects ;  we  even  defend  it  as  being  better  than  any  other ; 
we  strive  to  persuade  ourselves  that  an  etymological  or  a  his- 
torical mode  of  spelling,  as  we  phrase  it,  is  inherently  prefer- 
able to  a  phonetic.  Now  it  is  altogether  natural  and  praise- 
worthy that  we  should  be  strongly  attached  to  a  time-honoured 
institution,  in  the  possession  of  which  we  have  grown  up, 


463  ANOMALIES   OF  [LECT 

and  whiuh  we  have  learned  to  look  upon  as  a  part  of  the  sub- 
sisting fabric  of  our  speech  ;  it  is  natural  that  we  should  love 
even  its  abuses,  and  should  feel  the  present  inconvenience  to 
ourselves  of  ^^^doning  it  niuch  more  keenly  than  any  pio- 
spective  advantage  which  may  result  to  us  or  our  successora 
from  such  action  ;  that  we  should  therefore  look  with  jealousy 
upon  any  one  who  attempts  to  change  it,  questioning  nar- 
rowly his  right  to  set  himself  up  as  its  reformer,  and  the 
merits  of  the  reforms  he  proposes.  But  this  natural  and 
laudable  feeling  becomes  a  mere  blind  prejudice,  and  justly 
open  to  ridicule,  when  it  puts  on  airs,  proclaims  itself  the  de- 
fender of  a  great  principle,  regards  inherited  modes  of  spelling 
as  sacred,  and  frowns  upon  the  phonetist  as  one  who  would 
fain  mar  the  essential  beauty  and  value  of  the  language.  Of 
all  the  forms  of  linguistic  conservatism,  or  purism,  orthographic 
purism  is  the  lowest  and  the  easiest ;  for  it  deals  with  the 
mere  external  shell  or  dress  of  language,  and  many  a  one  can 
make  stout  fight  in  behalf  of  the  right  spelling  of  a  word 
whose  opinion  as  to  its  pronunciation  even,  and  yet  more  its 
meaning  and  nice  application,  would  possess  no  authority  or 
value  whatever :  hence  it  is  also  the  commonest,  the  least 
reasonable,  and  the  most  bigoted.  When  it  claims  to  be  as- 
serting a  principle,  it  is  only  defending  by  casuistry  a  preju- 
dice ;  it  determines  beforehand  to  spell  in  the  prevailing  mode, 
and  then  casts  about  to  see  what  reasons  besides  the  mode  it 
can  find  for  doing  so,  in  each  particular  case.  It  overwhelms 
with  misapplied  etymologic  learning  him  who  presumes  to 
write  honor  and  favor  for  honour  and  favour  (as  if  it  were 
highly  desirable  to  retain  some  reminiscence  of  the  French 
forms,  honneur  and  faveAir,  through  which  we  have  derived 
them  from  the  Latin  honor  ixwd  favor),  and  then  insists  just  aa 
strongly  upon  neighbour  (which  is  neither  French  nor  Latin)  , 
it  is  not  more  concerned  to  preserve  the  I  of  calm  (Latin 
c.ihnus;)  than  that  of  could  (Anglo-Saxon  cuilhe  :  the  I  has 
blundered  in,  froui  fancied  analogy  with  would  and  should), 
the  r/  of  sovereign  (Old-Euglish  soveraine,  French  souverain, 
Italian  sovrano)  than  that  of  reign  (Latin  regnum),  the  s  of 
inland  (Anglo-Saxon.  <"r//r7/?(/)  than  that  of  isle  (Old-FrencK 
islCf  Latin  insula)  j  it  upholds  such  anomalies  as  wonieny  which 


XII.]  ENGLISH    ORTKOGRAPHY.  409 

offends  equally  against  the  phonetic  and  the  etymologic-al 
principle  (it  comes  from  Anglo-Saxon  wtf-men).  How  much 
better  were  it  to  confess  candidly  that  we  cling  to  our  modea 
of  spelling,  and  are  determined  to  perpetuate  them,  simply 
because  they  are  ours,  and  we  are  used  to  and  love  them,  with 
all  their  absurdities,  rather  than  try  to  make  them  out  in- 
herently desirable !  Even  it'  the  irregularities  of  English 
orthography  were  of  historical  origin  throughout — as,  in  fact, 
they  are  so  only  in  part — it  is  not  the  business  of  writing  to 
teach  or  suggest  etymologies.  We  have  already  noted  it  as 
one  of  the  distinguishing  excellencies  of  the  Indo-European 
languages,  that  they  are  so  ready  to  forget  the  derivation  of  a 
term  in  favour  of  the  convenience  of  its  practical  use :  he, 
then,  is  ready  to  abnegate  a  hereditary  advantage  of  his  mode 
of  speech,  who,  for  the  sake  of  occasional  gratification  to  a 
few  curious  heads,  would  rivet  for  ever  upon  the  millions  of 
writers  and  readers  of  English  the  burden  of  such  an  ortho- 
graphy. The  real  etymologist,  the  historic  student  of  lan- 
guage, is  wholly  independent  of  any  such  paltry  assistance, 
and  would  rejoice  above  measure  to  barter  every  "  historical  " 
item  in  our  spelling  during  the  last  three  hundred  years  for  a 
strict  phonetic  picture  of  the  language  as  spoken  at  that  dis- 
tance in  the  past.  Nor  do  we  gain  a  straw's  weight  of  ad- 
vantage in  the  occasional  distinction  to  the  eye  of  words  which 
are  of  different  signification,  though  pronounced  alike  :  our 
language  is  not  so  Chinese  in  its  character  as  to  require  aid 
of  this  sort ;  our  writing  needs  not  to  guard  against  am- 
biguities which  are  never  felt  in  our  spoken  speech  ;  w'e  should 
no  more  miss  the  graphic  distinction  of  meet,  meat,  and  mete, 
of  rif/ht,  ivrife,  and  rite,  than  we  do  now  that  of  the  two 
cleave' s  and  page's,  the  three  or  four  found' s  and  sound's,  or 
the  other  groups  of  homonyms  of  the  same  class. 

It  may  w^ell  be  the  case  that  a  thorough  reform  of  English 
orthography  will  be  found  for  ever  impracticable  ;  it  certainly 
will  be  so,  while  the  public  temper  remains  what  it  now  is. 
But  let  us  at  any  rate  acknowledge  the  truth,  that  a  reforma- 
tion is  greatly  to  be  desired,  and  perhaps,  at  some  time  in  the 
future,  a  way  will  be  found  to  bring  it  about.  If  w^e  expect 
BFid  wish  that  our  tongue  become  one  day  a  world-language, 


470  DESTINY    AND   CHARACTER    OF  [lECT. 

under3tood  and  employed  on  every  continent  and  m  every 
clime,  then  it  is  our  bounden  duty  to  help  prepare  the  way 
for  taking  oif  its  neck  this  heavy  millstone.  How  heavy, 
we  are  hardly  able  to  realize,  having  ourselves  well-nigh  or 
quite  forgotten  the  toil  it  once  cost  us  to  learn  to  read  and 
speak  correctly ;  yet  we  cannot  help  seeing  how  serious  an 
obstacle  to  the  wide  extension  of  a  language  is  a  mode  of 
writing  which  converts  it,  from  one  of  the  easiest  in  the 
world,  into  one  of  the  hardest,  for  a  foreigner  to  acquire  and 
use. 

The  English  is  already,  perhaps,  spoken  and  written  as 
mother-tongue  by  a  greater  number  of  persons  than  any  other 
existing  dialect  of  high  cultivation ;  and  its  sphere  seems 
to  be  widening,  at  home  and  abroad,  more  rapidly  than  that 
of  any  other.  If  it  ever  becomes  a  world-language,  it  will 
do  so,  of  course,  not  on  account  of  its  superiority  as  a  form 
of  human  speech — since  no  one  ever  yet  abandoned  his  own 
vernacular  and  adopted  another  because  the  latter  was  a 
better  language — but  by  the  effect  of  social  and  political  con- 
ditions, which  shall  widen  the  boundaries  of  the  English- 
speaking  community.  Yet  we  cannot  but  be  desirous  to 
convince  ourselves  that  it  is  worthy  of  so  high  a  destiny. 
To  trust  our  own  prepossessions  upon  this  point  may  be  very 
easy  and  comfortable,  but  is  not  quite  safe.  The  universal 
tendency  among  men  to  exaggerate  the  advantages  of  their 
own  mode  of  speech  and  depreciate  those  of  others  would 
make  us,  in  spite  of  our  sincere  attempts  at  impartiality, 
more  than  just  to  our  beloved  mother-tongue — even  though 
we  might  be  willing  to  allow  that,  as  all  advantages^  cannot 
be  found  united  in  one  individual,  each  of  its  rivals  among 
the  cultivated  dialects  of  the  present  or  of  the  past  may  sur- 
pass it  in  one  or  another  respect.  It  does  not  lie  in  our 
way  to  take  up  the  matter  seriously,  inquiring  and  deter- 
mining what  is  the  absolute  rank  of  the  English  among  lan- 
guau:es ;  yet  it  may  be  worth  while  to  give  a  few  moments' 
consideration  to  one  or  two  points  that  bear  upon  the 
question. 

We  have,  in  the  first  place,  already  had  occasion  to  notice 
that  a  language  /*  just  what  the  people  to  whom  it  belongs 


XII.]  THE    ENGLISH    LANGUAGE.  471 

hav^e  made  it  by  tlieir  use ;  it  is  the  reflection  of  their  minds, 
and  of  their  minds'  contents  ;  its  words  and  phrases  are  in- 
stinct with  all  the  dej)th,  the  nobility,  the  subtilty,  and  the 
beauty  that  belon;:^s  to  their  thou<2;ht ;  it  can  be  made  to  ex- 
press at  least  as  much,  and  as  well,  as  it  has  been  made  to 
express.  A  literature,  then,  is  one  grand  test  of  the  worth 
of  a  language — and  it  is  one  by  which  we  need  not  fear  to  see 
tried  that  of  our  own.  It  is  not  national  prejudice  that 
makes  us  claim  for  English  literature,  in  respect  to  variety 
and  excellence,  a  rank  second  to  none.  We  can  show,  in 
every  or  nearly  every  department,  men  who  have  made  our 
English  tongue  say  what  no  other  tongue  has  exceeded. 

This  is  not,  however,  the  only  test.  We  cannot  but  ask 
a.lso  how  our  language  is  fitted  to  admit  and  facilitate  that 
indefinite  progress  and  extension  of  thought  and  knowledge 
to  which  we  look  forward  as  the  promise  of  the  future.  Has 
it  all  the  capacity  of  development  which  could  be  desired  for 
it  ?  In  their  bearing  upon  this  inquiry,  two  of  its  striking 
peculiarities — the  two  most  conspicuous,  in  the  view  of  the 
historical  student  of  language — call  for  special  notice : 
namely,  its  uninflective  or  formless  character,  and  its  com- 
position out  of  two  somewhat  heterogeneous  elements,  Ger- 
manic and  Romanic. 

Both  these  peculiarities  have  been  made  the  subject  of  re- 
peated reference  in  our  discussions  hitherto.  For  its  poverty 
in  formative  elements,  for  its  tendency  to  monosyllabism,  for 
its  inclusion  of  many  parts  of  speech  in  the  same  unvaried 
word,  we  have  compared  English  more  than  once  with 
Chinese.  But  we  must  beware  of  misapprehending  the 
scope  and  reach  of  the  comparison.  There  is  a  curious  and 
suggestive  analogy  between  the  present  geographical  position 
of  the  English  and  Chinese  races  and  the  present  character 
of  their  languages.  8ince  our  occupation  of  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  American  continent,  the  speakers  of  these  two 
tongues  look  over  to  one  another  as  nearest  neighbours 
across  the  intervening  Pacific.  But  the  situation  of  the 
Chinese  people  is  the  result  of  simple  quiescence  in  their 
primeval  abode  ;  while  the  English,  setting  forth  probably 
from  the  depths  of  the  same  Orient,  have  reached  the  seata 


472  CHARACTER    OF  [lKCT 

tliey  now  occupy,  in  tho  sequel  of  au  adventurous  and  con. 
quering  career  which  has  led  them  around  nearly  the  whole 
earth,  and  leaves  them  masters  of  many  of  its  fairest  portions, 
under  the  most  varied  skies.  The  virtual  distance  between 
the  two  is  therefore  almost  world-wide ;  it  is  to  be  measured 
by  the  course  which  the  English  race  has  traversed,  rather 
than  by  the  distance  which  still  separates  its  outposts  from 
China.  So"  the  English  language,  starting  in  that  mono- 
Byllabism  which  the  Chinese  has  never  quitted,  has  made  the 
whole  round  of  possible  development,  till  its  most  advanced 
portions  have  almost  come  back  again  to  their  original  state  ; 
but  it  still  holds  in  possession  much  of  the  territory  over 
which  it  has  passed,  and  is  dowered  with  all  the  wealth 
which  it  has  gathered  on  its  way ;  it  has  passed  through  all 
stages  and  varieties  of  enrichment,  and  has  kept  fast  hold  of 
their  most  valuable  products.  It  is  therefore  in  its  essential 
character  as  far  removed  from  the  Chinese  as  is  the  Greek. 
Its  resources  for  the  expression  of  relations,  for  the  suUicieut 
distinction  of  the  categories  of  thought,  are  hardly  inferior 
to  those  of  the  tongues  of  highest  intlective  character :  they 
are  of  another  kind,  it  is  true,  but  one  which,  if  it  has  ita 
disadvantages,  has  its  advantages  as  well.  Our  analytic 
liection  has  a  practical  value  equivalent  to  that  even  of  the 
rich  synthesis  of  the  classical  tongues;  and  in  this  respect 
also  we  need  confess  to  no  disabling  inferiority,  as  compared 
with  the  speakers  of  other  cultivated  languages. 

That,  again,  the  English  is  a  mixed  tongue,  may  not  be 
denied.  There  has  not  been  that  assimilation  of  its  two 
elements  which  is  the  natural  result  of  a  complete  fusion. 
The  length  of  our  words  of  Latin  origin,  as  compared  with  the 
Saxon,  is  a  ])hiin  external  indication  of  this:  take  anywhere 
a  page  of  English,  and  you  will  lind  that  its  Saxon  words 
average  less  than  half  as  long  as  those  of  other  derivation. 
AVhat  would  have  been  the  natural  tendency  of  the  language 
with  respect  to  these  long  forms  is  shown  by  its  treatment 
of  words  borrowed  earlier  from  the  classical  tongues:  thus, 
it  has  worked  d(»wn  monefa  into  mint^  k'driake  into  churchy 
prc.shufrros  into  priest,  elei'mosune  into  alms,  and  so  on.  Only 
the  specially  conservative  forces  of  learned  culture  and  the 


XII.]  THE    EI^aLISH    LANGUAGE.  47B 

habit  of  writing  have  saved  many  others  of  our  sesquiped- 
alian Latin  elements  from  a  like  fate.  We  have,  then,  in  a 
certain  sense,  two  languages  combined :  one  of  root-words, 
prevailingly  monosyllabic ;  the  other  of  long  derived  forms, 
whose  roots  and  derivation  are  in  the  main  unrecognizable 
by  the  mass  of  speakers  :  and  the  latter  must  often  lack  some- 
thing of  that  freshness  and  direct  force  which  belong  to  tho 
former.  But,  on  the  one  hand,  we  have  seen  above  (toward 
the  end  of  the  third  lecture)  that  the  etymological  connec- 
tions of  a  word  are,  after  all,  of  very  subordinate  consequence 
in  determining  its  degree  of  significant  force  and  suggestive- 
ness  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  there  has  been,  to  no  small  ex- 
tent, a  real  amalgamation  of  oar  two  vocabularies,  the  Ger- 
manic and  Romanic  :  among  the  words,  mainly  Saxon,  which 
answer  the  commonest  and  simplest  uses  of  communication, 
there  are  not  a  few  also  of  Latin  origin ;  and  some  Latin 
suffixes  are  familiarly  added  to  Saxon  themes,  as  well  as  the 
contrary.  Our  Latin  words  thus  range  from  the  extreme  -of 
homeliness  and  familiarity  to  the  extreme  of  learned  stateli- 
ness,  and  furnish  the  means  of  attaining  a  great  diversity  of 
styles.  At  the  same  time,  the  partial  Komanization  of  our 
language  throughout  its  whole  structure  renders  it  possible 
for  us  to  naturalize  more  thoroughly,  and  use  more  adroitly, 
the  words  which,  in  common  with  all  other  tongues  of  en- 
lightened nations  at  the  present  day,  we  are  obliged  to  import 
in  great  numbers  for  the  designation  of  objects  and  rela- 
tions of  learned  knowledge.  E-ichness  of  synonymy,  variety 
of  style,  and  power  of  assimilation  of  new  learned  material, 
are,  then,  our  compensation  for  whatever  of  weakness  may 
cling  to  our  language  by  reason  of  the  discordance  of  its 
constituent  elements. 

Our  general  conclusion  must  be  that,  if  the  English  is  not 
entitled  to  all  the  exaggerated  encomiums  which  are  some- 
times heaped  upon  it,  if  it  has  no  right  to  be  set  at  the 
head  of  all  languages,  living  or  extinct,  it  is  at  least  worthy 
of  all  our  love  and  admiration,  and  will  not  be  found  un- 
equal to  anything  which  the  future  shall  require  of  it — even 
should  circumstances  make  it  the  leading  tongue  of  civilized 
humanity.  Tor  what  it  is  to  become,  every  individual  who  em- 


474 


CONCLUSION. 


ploys  it  shares  in  tlie  responsibility.  The  character  of  a 
lans;uage  is  not  determined  by  the  rules  of  grammarians  and 
lexicographers,  but  by  the  usage  of  the  community,  by  the 
voice  and  opinion  of  speakers  and  hearers  ;  and  this  works 
most  naturally  and  effectively  when  it  works  most  unconsci- 
ously. Clear  and  manly  thought,  and  direct  and  unaffected 
expression,  every  writer  and  speaker  can  aim  at ;  and,  by  so 
doing,  can  perform  his  part  in  the  perfecting  of  his  mother- 
tongue. 

With  these  few  words  respecting  our  own  language,  which 
must  be  the  subject  of  highest  interest  with  every  student 
of  language  to  whom  it  is  native,  I  bring  to  a  close  our  con- 
sideration of  the  subject  of  these  lectures,  thanking  you  for 
your  kind  and  patient  attention  to  my  exposition  of  it,  and 
hoping  that  what  I  have  said  may  not  be  without  effect  in 
helping  you  to  clear  apprehensions  of  the  nature  and  history 
of  one  of  man's  noblest  gifts  and  most  valuable  acquisitioiiB. 


ANALYSIS. 


LECTURE  I. 

I  Recent  date  of  linguistic  science;  its  preparatory  stages;  reasons  of  tfaelf 
failure;  modern  conditions  favoring  its  development. 

2.  Establishment  of  the  Indo-European  family  of  languages;  of  the  comparativ* 
method  of  linguistic  study;  aid  atlbrded  by  the  Sanskrit. 

3.  Birthplace  of  the  science  ;  scholars  and  works  mainly  instrumental  in  its 
progress;  its  claim  to  the  title  of  science. 

4.  Field  and  scope  of  the  science;  its  relation  to  other  modes  of  the  study  jf 
language;  its  aims. 

b.  Interest  of  the  scientific  study  of  language;  importance  of  speech  to  man; 
value  of  its  study  to  ethnology  and  history. 

6.  What  is  undertaken  in  these  lectures;  sketch  of  their  argument;  method  to 
be  followed. 

7.  Comprehensive  inquiry  of  the  linguistic  student;  first  form  in  which  it  is  put. 

8.  The  English  language  learned  by  its  speakers;  early  steps  of  the  process; 
illustrations  ;  distinctions,  classifications,  and  positive  knowledge  acqmred 
along  with  words. 

9.  Passive  attitude  of  the  learner;  disregard  of  etymologies;  relation  of  the  ac- 
quired sign  to  the  idea  it  represents 

10.  Our  mother-tongue  not  acquired  by  inheritance;  illustrations. 

11.  Advantage  involved  in  learning  language,  rather  than  making  it. 

12.  What  kind  of  Enghsh  we  thus  learn;  local  peculiarities  of  speech;  their  per- 
sistency; influences  correcting  them. 

13.  How  much  of  English  we  learn;  the  child's  vocabulary;  extent  of  the  whole 
English  tongue;  the  part  of  it  acquired  by  different  classes;  the  part  left  un- 
acquired; differences  of  individuals  as  regards  power  and  style  of  expression. 

14.  Differences  of  individuals  as  regards  the  meanings  attached  to  words ;  error? 
of  acquisition  and  application;  imperfection  of  language  as  representative  of 
thought;  variation  of  meaning,  in  different  classes  of  words;  verbal  disputes. 

15.  Respects  in  which  each  one's  English  differs  from  that  of  otherj;  what  th« 
English  language  is;  what  gives  it  unity. 


476  ANALYSIS. 

16.  How  the  lan£;nage  is  kept  in  existence;  aid  rendered  by  literature ^  the  part 
used  and  transmitted  by  individual  speakers  and  writers. 

17.  Alteration  of  the  language  in  the  process  of  transmission;  difference  of  our 
Kngli>h  trom  .Sliakosj)eare's;  from  Chaucer's;  from  Anglo-Saxon;  the  change 
unintended  by  those  who  made  it. 

18.  Change  in  vocabulary;  its  reasons;  its  different  rate  in  different  parts  of  tbi 
vocabulary:  examples;  its  necessity;  it  consists  in  losses  as  well  as  additi  )ns. 

10.  ('hange  in  the  form  of  words;  imperfection  of  traditional  tninsmission  )f 
language,  in  children  and  in  older  persons;  currency  of  bad  Knglish. 

20.  Tendencies  leading  to  this  kind  of  change;  examples:  silent  letters;  al- 
teied  accent;  new  verbal  forms;  new  words;  altered  grammatical  value,  etc. 

21.  Present  persistency  of  English;  its  former  rapid  mutation;  historical  causes. 

22.  Universal  value  of  the  main  results  of  tliese  inquiries;  what  every  lan- 
guage is,  how  acquired,  how  kept  in  life,  how  changed;  what  is  a  living 
language;  change  the  fundamental  fact  in  all  language. 


LECTURE   II. 

I.  Review:  principal  topics  of  the  preceding  lecture. 

3.  In  what  way  language  exists;  how  it  is  maintained  or  modified. 

3.  False  views  upon  this  subject;  nicidents  adduced  in  their  support. 

4.  Futility  of  the  argument  from  these  incidents;  how  and  why  a  potentate, 
or  other  individual,  cannot  make  language;  how  he  can  do  so;  examplea 
of  words  thus  made  or  altered. 

5.  What  confers  authority  to  make  language,  and  under  what  restrictions;  ex- 
amples from  technical  vocabularies  ;  change  in  the  general  language;  usage 
the  rule  of  speech. 

6.  Examples  of  conscious  discussions  of  the  proprieties  of  speech;  consideration! 
determining  the  decision. 

7.  Changes  of  form  and  structure,  how  brought  about;  examples. 

8.  Influences  and  conditions  favoring,  or  opposing,  the  change  of  language; 
action  upon  it  of  individuals,  and  of  the  community;  aim  of  the  individual. 

9.  .\nalogy  between  language  and  an  organism:  between  its  life  and  that  of  the 
animal  kingdom;  between  linguistic  science  and  geology. 

10.  Abuse  of  these  analogies;  what  language  is,  and  how  produced  and  changed 

II.  The  study  of  language  a  historical  science;  its  relation  to  other  sciences,  its 
fundamental  difference  from  the  physical  sciences. 

12.  Unartiticial  character  of  the  facts  and  aspects  of  language  studied  by  us; 
their  objective  value;  rci\l  foundation  of  the  analogies  witii  physical  sciome* 
other  motives  of  the  claim  that  linguistics  is  a  ph3'sical  science;  their  grourd- 
lessness;  true  s:;ientilic  character  of  the  study. 

13.  Return  to  the  fundanu-ntal  inquiry  of  linguistic  science;  new  form  in  which 
it  is  put;  historical  investigation  of  a  historical  product. 

14.  Etymology  the  foundation  of  the  science;  its  processes  to  be  illustrated. 

15.  .Vnalysis  of  words  into  their  component  parts;  ordinary  compounds;  theil 
value;  unity  and  iudepoudeiice  given  them. 

16.  Closer  compounds  with  origui  obscured;  with  origin  effaced. 


ANALYSIS.  477 

17.  Compounda  with  subordinated  element;  examples  of  subordinated  ekmentBi 
or  suffixes:  -fal;  -less;  -ly,  its  history;  -ship ;  -dof  the  preterit,  its  history. 

IS.  Inferences  as  to  the  growth  of  words;  their  soundness. 

19.  Further  examples:  -pie;  am  and  is. 

JO.  Genesis  of  suffixes,  or  formative  elements,  in  general. 

II.  Accumulation  of  suffixes  about  one  root;  universality  of  formative  ele- 
nu-nts  in  our  language. 

if!.  Importance  of  the  analytic  process  in  etymology;  its  value  as  the  retracin,.; 
of  a  previous  synthesis;  how  far  this  is  a  matter  of  proof,  and  how  far  of  infer- 
ence ;  reason  why  it  is  so ;  certainty  of  the  infei  ence 

LECTURE  III. 

I.  Review:  results  of  our  inquiries  hitherto.  / 
i.  Universality  of.corrupting  change  ia  language;  principal  tendency  underlying   '^ 

it;  economy  of  eflort  in  utterance. 

3.  The  sphere  of  corruption  widened  by  composition  of  elements;  examples. 

i.  Reason  of  the  alterability  of  words ;  oblivion  of  etymology  in  favor  of  con- 
venient use. 

5.  Examples  of  forgotten  etymologies  with  form  unchanged;  with  form  some- 
what changed. 

5.  Valuable  action  of  phonetic  change  in  making  formative  elements  and  pro- 
ducing grammatical  forms. 

r.  Destructive  effect  of  the  same  tendency;  its  alteration  of  linguistic  structure. 

8.  Mutilation  and  final  loss  of  verbal  endings,  in  Latin,  Gothic,  Anglo-Saxon, 
English. 

9.  Etfacement  of  declensional  forms;  what  is  left  of  them  in  English. 

10.  Gender:  its  aspect  in  the  older  languages ;  its  abandonment  in  English. 

II.  Substitution  of  one  mode  of  formal  distinction  for  another;  English  irregular 
plurals;  their  origin. 

12.  Irregular  verbal  conjugation  in  English:  its  origin,  development,  and  pres- 
ent aspect. 

13.  Origin  of  the  later,  or  regular,  conjugation  of  English  verbs;  its  extension 
to  irregular  verbs. 

14.  Extension  to  their  present  prevalence  of  our  possessive  and  plural  endings. 

15.  Extensible  character  of  formative  elements;  mobilization  of  new  words  by 
their  means;  historical  mixtures  thus  produced. 

16.  Loss,  by  phonetic  corruption,  of  valuable  distinctions;  examples  in  verbal 
conjugation. 

1?.  L.»ss  of  distinctions  of  meaning;  shnll  and  toill;  obsolescence  of  subjunctive 
18-   Change  of  form  by  conversion  of  one  articulated  sound  into  another. 

19.  Agencies  instrumental  in  producing  articulate  sounds;  example  of  their 
actum,  frienrlly ;  its  elements,"  accent;  distinction  of  syllables. 

20.  Compatibility  of  articulate  sounds  with  one  another;  degrees  of  pronounce- 
ablene.ss,  in  the  same  or  in  different  languages;  wherein  euphony  consists. 

11.  Physical  scheme  of  English  spoken  alphabet;  its  ser.es  and  classes;  distinc- 
tion of  vowel  and  consonant;  of  sonant  and  surd  articulations. 

22.  Ordinarv  conversions  of  one  sound  into  another:    er.change  of  surd  and 


478  ANALYSIS. 

sonant;  of  sounds  of  the  same  series;  of  sounds  of  the  same  class;  irregulai 

conversions;  assimilation. 
23.  Variability  of  vowel-sounds;  resulting  irregularity  of  English  orthography. 
24    Relation  of  the   student   of  language  to  phonetic   changes;   their  etheient 

causes  out  of  his  reach;  peculiar  usages  of  different  languages;  ascribable   to 

no  other  causes  than  habit  and  caprice  of  speakers. 

25.  Grimm's  law  of  consonantal  mutation  in  Germanic  language;  the  phone  me- 
non  unexplained;  partial  analogies  for  it. 

26.  Loss  of  words  out  of  language;  its  causes;  where  it  most  occurs;  disap- 
pearance of  ancient  English  vocabulary. 

27.  Processes  of  change  hitherto  treated  external;  processes  of  internal  change; 
interest  of  the  latter;  relation  of  the  two  kinds;  necessity  and  universality  of 
internal  change. 

28.  On  what  the  possibility  of  internal  change  depends;  examples  of  internal 
and  external  change. 

29.  Ill'istrations  of  the  processes  of  names-giving:  moon,  lane,  sun;  their  deri- 
vatiou   extension,  and  various  application. 

30.  Further  examples :  smiih  and  Smith  ;    Ccesnr. 

31.  The  two  fundanjental  methods  of  names-giving;  their  varieties. 

32.  Variet\'  of  meanings  of  the  same  word;  examples,  board,  post,  head,  couii, 
examples  of  notable  divergence  of  meaning:  become,  kinrl  &nd  like,  secomi. 

33.  Ambiguity  of  words;  in  what  consists  clearness  of  expression;  never  fully 
attainable. 

34.  Different  words  with  kindred  meaning;  synonyms:  their  insufficiency. 

35.  Variation  of  form  accompanying  variation  of  m  -aning;  examples. 

36.  Development  of  intellectual  and  abstract  from  physical  and  concrete  mean- 
ing; examples,  from  Latin  and  Germanic  parts  of  our  vocabulary. 

37.  Attenuation  of  meaning;  production  of  relational  words,  connectives,  sub 
stantive  verb,  etc. 

38.  Phrases;  change  of  meaning  in  them ;  in  combinations. 

39.  Change  of  meaning  in  formative  elements;  reduction  of  independent  words 
to  the  value  of  such  elements;  verbal  auxiliaries:  do;  havt^,  its  variety  of  use; 
signs  of  infinitive  and  possessive;  prevalence  of  this  class  of  words  in  some 
njo<lern  languages. 

40.  Variety  of  meanings  in  the  derivatives  of  one  root;  fertility  and  variety  of 
the  resources  of  express^ion. 

41.  Degrees  of  reflectiveness  in  the  processes  of  names-giving;  devising  of  a  ter- 
minologv;  tlie  most  essential  part  of  language-making  unconscious;  develop- 
ment of  expression ;  internal  enrichment  of  a  vocabulary;  its  correspondence 
with  the  knowledge  and  capacity  of  its  users;  power  of  individuals  over  it. 

42.  Form-making  always  unreflective  and  gradual. 

43.  Everv  act  of  language-making  the  work  of  speakers;  antecedency  of  (bs 
cimception  to  its  expression;  what  is  meant  by  this;  example. 

4-1.  Everv  name    las  a  historical  reason,  founded  in    convenience;   derivatioo; 

what  etymology  undertakes;  example. 
45.  The  etymological  reason  neither  necessary  nor  permanent;  r-sng^  the  ut» 

authority  for  a  name. 


ANALYSIS.  479 

46.  Why  we  study  the  history  of  words ;  how  they  illustrate  human  historr 
examples  of  words  and  their  historical  reasons. 

47.  Intrusion  of  etymological  reminiscences  a  detriment  to  the  prac'ical  use 
of  language;  their  oblivion  essential  to  its  development;  their  oo.  :asionaI 
rhetorical  value.  ' 

43.  Use,  not  etj^mology,  makes  the  significance  of  a  word;  our  comprehensii n 
ind'ipendprt  of  etymological  aid;  relation  of  speech  to  thought. 

LECTURE  IV. 

1.  Review  of  the  ground  passed  over:  processes  of  external  and  internal 
growth  of  language. 

2.  Yariations  in  the  rate  of  linguistic  change,  m  ditlerent  tongues  and  times. 

3.  Influence  of  externa!  circumstances  on  rate  of  change;  imaginary  illustrative 
cases;  correspondence  of  the  language  and  mental  furniture  of  a  people. 

4.  Difterences  in  the  kind  of  linguistic  change;  change  of  vocabulary;  possible 
effect  on  structure. 

5.  Change  at  present  in  English;  call  for  it;  infusion  of  new  knowledge  into  old 
words;  adaptation  of  familiar  expressions  to  new  and  more  precise  uses. 

5.  Growth  of  English  by  combination  and  derivation;  its  restricted  sphere;  mo- 
bilization of  words;  its  apparatus  hardly  admits  of  increase. 

7.  Importation  of  classical  material  into  English;  circumstances  favoring  it; 
learned  character  of  the  new  knowledge;  convenience  and  general  use  of  thig 
mode  of  word-making;  its  prominence  in  our  use;  pedantically  learned  English. 

8.  Historical  causes  changing  the  mode  of  growth  in  English;  nature  of  the 
obstacle  to  internal  development. 

9.  Influences  checking  the  structural  decay  of  language;  reflective  use;  litera- 
ture and  education. 

10.  Effect  of  conservative  influences  when  limited  to  a  class;  divergence  of  A 
learned  and  a  popular  dialect;  dead  languages;  conservatism  and  purism. 

11.  Prospects  of  modern  cultivated  dialects;  tendency  of  English  in  America. 

12.  Remaining  difficulties  of  the  problem;  peculiarities  of  national  character; 
appeal  to  physical  and  physiological  causes  vain;  in  what  way  alone  phvsical 
causes  can  become  operative;  their  mode  of  action  as  yet  undetermined. 

13.  Dialectic  diflerences;  what  a  process  of  linguistic  growth  is;  mutual  action 
of  individuals  and  communities  the  foundation  of  dialectic  historv. 

14.  Diversifying  tendencies  in  linguistic  growth;  their  origin,  the  diverse  action 
of  individuals. 

16.  Unifying  influence  of  communication  ;  object  of  speech;  necessity  of  mutua. 
understanding  the  restraint  upon  indefinite  alteration. 

hi.  Unity  of  speech  necessary  in  a  community;  what  this  implies;  variablt 
meaning  of  community;  parts  of  language  belonging  to  communities  within 
communities;   authority  for  change  in  each. 

17.  Causes  which  favor  diversification  of  language;  their  external  character, 
want  of  culture. 

18.  Influences  preserving  unity  of  speech;  culture;  literature. 

19.  Production  of  ui  ity  of  speech  out  of  diversity;  examples;  English  provnncial- 


480  ANALYSIS. 

ism;  colonies;  immigrants  into  America;  efFacement  and  productior   of  dia 

lectp  aljke  universal. 
20.  History  of  the  German  language:  its  ancient  dialects;  their  various  change; 

their  condition  in  more  recent  times;  early  High -German  cultivated  dialects, 

uprise  of  the  present  one;    influence  of  the  Reformation,  printing,  Luther's 

■writings;  its  increasing  power;  its  possible  future:  limits  to  its  extension. 
21  Similar  history  of  other  cultivated  dialects:  French;  Proven  9al ;  Italian. 
82.  History  of  the  Latin:  its  original  seat;  its  kindred  and  neighbors;  its  spread; 

upon  what  dependent;  speech  of  Romanized  Italy;  further  extension,  through 

southern  Europe;  resulting  group  of  Romanic  tongues. 

23.  Popular  speech  of  the  empire;  fate  of  the  classical  Latin;  development  of  va- 
lyiiig  dialects;  local  disturbing  causes;  new  national  and  cultivated  tongues. 

24.  Nituralness  of  the  convergence  and  divergence  of  dialects;  results  of  the 
fusion  of  communities;  the  Latin,  the  Prankish,  the  Norse,  in  Gaul;  the  Sax- 
on, the  Norman,  in  England;  their  fusion,  and  its  result. 

25.  Dialects  in  England;  their  effacement  in  the  transfer  to  America:  assimila- 
tion to  the  cultivated  dialect;  uniformity  of  English  speech  in  America;  in- 
fluences contributing  to  it. 

26.  Agreement  of  the  English  of  Britain  and  of  America;  its  imperfection;  dan- 
gers threatening  it,  and  influences  to  be  relied  on  to  maintain  it. 

27.  Dialects  in  America;  their  range  and  degree;  difference  of  colloquial  and 
literary  language. 

28.  The  terms  dialect  and  language  interchangeable;  transmutation  of  species 
in  linguistic  history. 

LECTURE  V. 

1.  Rkview  of  the  topics  treated  m  the  preceding  lecture. 

2.  Error  of  regarding  dialects  as  the  progenitors,  rather  than  descendants,  of  uni- 
form speech. 

3.  In  what  the  diflcrences  of  related  dialects  consist;  production  of  these  difler- 
ences  by  varving  linguistic  change;  examples,  verify,  nttcTuI,  trite,  fathtr,  is. 

4.  General  inference  from  such  facts;  fallacy  of  the  opposing  view;  causes  of  the 
greater  uniformity  of  human  language  in  modern  times. 

5.  Dialectic  variation  found  within  the  limits  of  ever}' language;  differences  of 
its  descendants  not  the  product  of  this,  but  additions  to  it. 

6.  Cultivation  of  a  language;  what  it  effects,  and  how;  economy  in  speech; 
what  a  cultivated  language  is. 

1  l")ialectic  differences  and  their  causes  of  one  and  the  same  kind  through  all 
linguistic  history;  necessary'  inference  from  linguistic  correspondences;  allow- 
ance for  accidental  resemblances  and  borrowing. 

8.  Classification  of  languages  by  their  relationship;  next  task  to  be  undertaken 

9.  Itclationsliip  o<  English;  unity  of  its  dialects;  its  connection  with  langiiag''« 
of  Germany ;  historical  explanation  of  this. 

I(.  The  three  divisions  of  Germanic  language;  their  inferred  origin  and  descent. 
V.  Connection  cf  part  of  our  vocabulary  with  the  Romanic  languages;  its  hi» 
torical  ground. 


ANALYSTS.  4  Si 

12.  Connection  of  Germanic  and  Romanic  languages  with  one  another  and  witk 

other  langu.'iicep;  why  to  be  expected. 
V>-  Other  I'.uropean  toiijfjue.^  related  to  ours;  Greek;  Celtic,  its  former  extent  and 

lucfent  rrpresertatives;  Slavonic,  its  domain  and  chief  branches ;  Lithuauic. 
14    European  languages  of  other  kindred. 
1-5.   A.-iatic  tongues  related  to  ours:  Iranian;  Indian. 

tC    Family  of  languages  thus  made  up;  its  names;  relations  of  its  members. 
17.   P^viflence  of  tlic  unity  of  the  family;  most  conveniently  exhibitable  in  certain 

classes  of  words;  why  this  is  so;  illustrations. 
ItJ.  Examples  of  correspondences  of  Indo-European  words:  numerals,  pronouns, 

ttords  of  relationship. 

19.  Talue  of  these  correspondences;  they  cannot  be  the  result  of  accident  or  of 
borrowing;  theory  sometimes  put  forward  to  explain  them;  its  untenability ; 
mixture  of  languages  veiy  slow  to  afiect  such  words  as  those  selected;  slowest 
of  all  to  affect  grammatical  structure. 

20.  Correspondences  of  grammatical  structure  in  lndo-P2uropean  speech;  per- 
sonal endings  of  verbs. 

21.  The  correspondences  given  specimens  merely;  only  i)Ossii>le  way  of  account- 
ing for  them. 

22  Original  home  of  the  language  miknowii:  even  tho  latest  movements  of  the 
Indo-European  races  quite  obscure;  their  several  appearance  in  history. 

2-i.  Linguistic  eviuenee  as  to  the  home  wanting;  futility  of  inference  from  supe- 
rior i)rimitiveness  of  certain  laiiguai;es ;  inter-connections  of  tlie  tranches  still 
doubtful;  conflicting  views  respecting  them;  the  general  question  insoluble^ 

24.  Time  of  Indo-European  unity  undeterminable;  latest  admissible  date; 
recent  discoveries  bearing  upon  the  antiquit}'  of  man. 

25.  Partial  restoration  of  the  original  common  vocabulary;  legitimacy  of  infer- 
ences from  it  as  to  condition  of  its  .speakers. 

26.  Interences  so  derived:  mode  of  life,  possessions,  arts,  social  constitutio-n,  and 
religion  of  the  Indo-European  mother-tnoe. 


LECTURE  VI. 

1.  Review:  survey  of  the  branches  of  Indo-European  language;  our  next  task  a 
more  detailed  survey. 

2.  Divisions  of  Germanic  branch;  Low-German  group;  English  and  its  direct 
ancestors;  Frisian;  Old  Saxon;  their  fate;  Netherlandish;  Flemish. 

3.  High-German  group;  its  three  periods;  their  date,  ruling  dialects,  and  litera- 
tures. 

4.  Scandinavian  group;  Icelandic  records;  their  date  and  importance;  modern 
Scandinavian  dialects. 

5    P^xtinct  groups;  Ultilas's  Bible-version;  Moeso-Gothic ;  its  importance. 

6.  Slavonic  branch;  Church  Slavic;  Russian;  other  dialects  of  the  south-eastern 
grrup:  principal  languages  of  the  western  group. 

7.  Litliuanic  group;  its  relation  to  Slavonic;  source  of  its  interest;  its  dialects. 
B.  Celtic  branch  ;  its  present  narrow  dimensions;  its  decay  and  probable  extino- 

ti'^m     Celtomaiiia 


482  ANALYSIS. 

9.  Earliest  Celtic  records;    their  date  and  character;   other  Gadhelic  dialectic 

Cymric  dialects;  Welsh  literature;  Cornish;  Armorican. 

10.  Romanic  branch;  its  members;  date  of  their  early  records. 

11.  Romanic  tongues  representatives  of  the  Latin  ;  afje  of  the  Latin ;  other  related 
dialects  of  ancient  Italy;  Italic  group;  false  theories  as  to  origin  of  Latin. 

12.  Greek;  its  earliest  monuments;  its  dialects,  their  date  and  early  reco'ds; 
modern  Greek. 

l;].  Iranian  branch;  cuneiform  inscriptions;  the  Avestaand  itslangnage;  Pelilevi 
Parsi;  modern  Persian  language  and  literature;  character  of  modern  Per.^ian. 

14.  Languages  allied  to  Iranian;  Armenian,  etc. 

15.  Indian  branch;  part  of  India  occupied  by  it;  modem  Indo-European  dialecta 
of  India;  Gypsy  language ;  Prakrit  and  Pali ;  their  relation  to  the  Sanskrit. 

16.  Present  position  of  the  Sanskrit;  its  two  dialects;  character  of  the  classical 
Sanskrit;  its  literature  and  chronology;  Vedic  dialect;  date  of  the  Veda;  its 
value  to  the  study  of  Indo-European  antiquity. 

17.  Character  of  the  Sanskrit;  unfounded  claims  in  its  favor;  its  defects  and 
advantages;  source  and  degree  of  its  value  to  Indo-Europ?an  philology. 

18.  Sources  of  the  interest  attaching  to  the  study  of  Endo-European  language;  its 
relation  to  ourselves;  historical  importance  of  the  race  speaking  it. 

19.  Entrance  of  the  Indo-European  race  into  history;  rise  to  importance  of  the 
several  brandies,  Persian,  Greek,  Roman,  Germanic;  Semitic  interference; 
present  position  of  the  race. 

20.  Legitimacy  of  the  historical  title  to  interest;  intrinsic  superiorit}' of  Indo- 
European  speech. 

21.  Connection  of  Indo-European  philology  Avith  the  science  of  language;  its 
grounds;  anti(|uity  and  variety  of  Indo-European  dialects,  as  compared  with 
Chinese,  Egyi)tian,  Hebrew;  with  other  tongues. 

22.  Advantage  to  the  student  in  possessing  connected  dialects  of  varied  structure 
and  different  age;  what  he  can  do  without  them;  with  variety  only  of  con- 
temporary dialects;  illustrations;  superior  advantage  offered  in  Indo-European 
language;  the  latter  tlie  basis  of  linguistic  science;  but  not  its  whole  material. 

23.  End  souglit  by  the  linguistic  student;  material  and  method  of  his  search; 
historical  ciiaracter  of  his  investigations;  qualities  needed  in  the  etymologist. 

24.  Difficulties  of  etymological  study;  waste  of  mind  in  its  false  pursuit. 

25.  The  comparative  method;  its  grounds;  comparative  philology. 

26.  Abuses  of  the  comparative  method;  miscellaneous  compa^i^^on;  comparison 
of  distantly  related  tongues  without  regard  to  intermediate  forms;  examples; 
cornparison  of  languages  unrelated. 

87.  Cumulative  nature  of  evidences  of  relationship  in  language:  process  of  iti 

establishment. 
SiS.  hillerence  of  modern  etymologizing  from  ancient;   qualities  demanded  bj 

it;  its  two  fundamental  principles. 
29-  Comparison  of  lists  of  words ;  its  insufficiency  as  means  of  linguistic  ?escarca» 
30.   Limitation  of  linguistic  study  to  a  comparison  of  words;   its  error;  what  iaj 

involved  in  the  history  pf  a  word;  example. 
91>  Unlimited  scope  of  the  comparative  method. 


ANALYSIS.  48i 


LECTURE  Yir. 

1.  Review:  iatiportance  of  Indo-European  language,  and  method  of  itsin^esli- 
gacion;  next  subject  of  inquiiy. 

2.  Degree  of  our  knowledge  of  the  history  of  Indo-European  speech. 

3.  Processes  of  linguistic  growi;h;  their  possible  future  etfect;  question  as  to  tkcii 
beginning;  reply  to  it. 

4.  (Jround  of  our  knowledf^e  concerning  beginnings  of  speech :  exanipVs  rf  rtceut 
English  combinations;  infereuce  as  to  all  formative  elements;  auth  »j-ity  cf 
analogical  evidence  in  language. 

5.  Analysis  of  irrerocnbllity ;  its  nucleus;  original  independence  of  the  latter. 

6.  Primary  and  secondary  suffixes;  how  far  they  differ  and  agree. 

7.  Indo-European  roots;  their  value;  original  monosyllabism  of  Indo-European 
speech. 

8.  Prliiid  favie  objections  to  this  view;  humbleness  of  such  beginnings;  their 
insufficiency. 

9.  The  two  classes  of  roots;  pronominal  roots;  their  ofrice,  application,  derivative 
classes,  number,  structure;  examples. 

10.  Verbal  roots;  their  number,  structure,  and  office;  examples;  nature  of  thur 
significance. 

11.  The  theory  of  roots  as  the  beginnings  of  language,  whence  derived ;  contro- 
versv  as  to  first  words;  as  to  relation  of  the  two  classes  of  roots. 

12.  Question  as  to  absolute  originality  of  recognized  roots;  examples  of  apparent 
English  roots,  really  derivative;  of  Indo-European  roots  of  the  same  character; 
caution  necessary  on  this  head. 

1-8.  Original  roots  analogous,  at  least,  with  those  we  trace;  value  of  all  forms  of 
more  than  one  syllable;  other  supporting  ccmsiderations:  earliest  inflections; 
difference  of  a  primitive  and  a  derived  monosyllabism;  scanty  alphabet  of 
first  Indo-European  language;  its  development. 

14.  First  forms,  how  made;  first  verbal  tense;  genesis  of  its  endings;  their  relica 
in  English. 

15.  Other  tenses;  the  augment;  reduplication;  traces  of  the  latter  in  Germanic. 

16.  Moods;  future  tense;  refiexives  and  passives;  derivative  conjugations; 
special  theme  of  present  and  imperfect. 

17.  Reductions  and  extensions  of  verbal  inflection,  in  Greek,  Latin,  Germanic. 

18.  Genesis  of  nouns  and  noun-forms:  nouns  without  suffix  of  derivation;  most 
immediate  derivatives  from  roots ;  suffixes  of  derivation ;  their  origin. 

19.  Endings  of  declension;  relations  indicated  by  them  :  case  —  Indo-European 
cases  and  their  signs;  number;  gender  —  character  and  origin  of  grammatical 
gender. 

20.  Reduction  of  declensional  system  in  modern  languages,  as  to  number,  case, 
and  gender. 

21.  Declension  of  adjectives  and  pronouns;  relation  of  substantive  and  adjective 
v2    Other  parts  of  speech:  adverbs,  their  derivation;  prepositions,  their  primitive 

^  ^.ue  and  origin;  conjunctions;  articles;  interjections. 
83.  Development  of  Indo-European  language;  its  early  date:  its  slow  and  grad 


484 


ANALYSTS- 


ual  ]<io^esa,  reasons  of  this;  rate  acceleratedly  rapid,  up  to  a  maximoin  in 
pre-historic  time. 

14.  Ubjection,  hence  drawn,  to  theory  of  primitive  monosyllabism;  progress  cf 
modern  tongues  toward  an  analytic  structure. 

25.  Weakness  of  the  objection:  joint  action  of  synthetic  and  anal^i^ic  tendencies 
\hs  hitter  not  alway.s  the  stronger  in  historic  times;  illustrations;  character  oi 
Russian. 

26  True  form  of  tlie  question  involved;  modern  analytic  forms  do  not  disprove 
growth  of  older  synthetic;  habit  determines  the  preponderance  of  either  tend- 
ency; reasons  for  tiie  climax  of  synthetic  habit;  for  the  later  prevalence  ot 
analytic;  general  conclusion. 

27.  Kenan's  doctrine  of  the  antecedency  of  synthesis;  his  confusion  of  synthetic 
conception  with  synthetic  style  of  expression,  which  as  really  implies  menta. 
analysis  as  does  analytic  expression. 

28.  Steady  progress  of  linguistic  growth,  without  sudden  shift  or  break;  base- 
lessness of  the  theory  that  language-making  andjiistory  exclude  and  succeed 
one  another:  necessity  of  rigorous  method  in  reasoning  from  known  conditioud 
of  language  back  to  unknown. 

LECTURE  Vlir. 

1.  fiKViEW,  next  subject;  its  connection  with  what  precedes. 

2.  Wider  value  of  results  drawn  from  history  of  Indo-European  speech;  things 
true  of  all  language. 

3.  Linguistic  families,  on  what  evidence  established;  their  uncertain  boundaries; 
doubtful  languages 

4.  Abnormal  etlacemcnt  of  material  signs  of  relationship;  introduction  of  evi- 
dence derived  from  structure;  its  possil)le  value. 

5.  Structural  characteristics  of  Indo-Kuropean  language:  its  combinations;  their 
closeness;  its  intiective  character;  wherein  this  consists. 

6.  Semitic  family;  its  locality ;  other  names  for  it;  its  chief  members. 

7.  Semitic  history:  IMieuiciaus  and  their  activity;  Semitic  empires  in  Mesopo- 
tamia; their  records;  importance  of  Hebrew  history;  rise  and  fall  of  Arab 
greatness. 

8.  Branches  of  Semitic  language  and  their  literatures.  Canaanitic  branch; 
Hebrew,  ancient,  Rabbinic,  and  modern;  Samaritan;  Phenician  remains; 
Cathaginia.'i. 

9  Aramaic  branch:  Jewish  Chaldee;  Christian  Syriac,  ancient  and  modern; 
Kaljatean. 

10  Aral'ic  branch:  Himyaritic  remains;  Ethiopian  dialects;  Arabic,  earliest 
/•scords;  spread  of  the  .Vrabic;  its  infusion  into  other  tongues. 

11.  Characteristics  of  Semitic  speech :  its  intiective  type;  what  this  implies;  its 
triiiteral  roots  and  internal  tlection;  illustration;  athxes  and  derivation. 

12.  lecnliarity  of  .*^eniitic  iuHcction;  analogies  lor  it  in  Indo-lluropean  language; 
th^ir  fundamental  ditference;  hints  at  a  partial  explanation  of  it;  attempt*  tt 
resolve  the  roots  into  monosyllables;  dlllicuity  of  the  problem. 


ANALYSIS.  485 

13.  Semitic  verb:  its  numbers,  persons,  tenses,  moods,  derivative  conjugations; 
Semitic  nouns    their  declension  :  substantive  verb. 

14.  Semitic  syntax;  development  of  meaning;  general  character  of  the  language. 

15.  Kelations  of  the  Semitic  dialects;  pert^istency  of  their  structure;  its  reasons; 
dif-Hculty  of  combination;  comparative  primitis^eness  of  the  dialects;  character 
of  modern  dialects. 

16.  Semitic  dialect  of  Ass3'ria;  asserted  connection  of  Semitic  with  certain  Ian 
guages  of  Africa;  with  Indo-European  languages;  its  insufficient  grounds. 

17.  General  value  of  Semitic  language;  erroneous  opinions  as  to  the  Hebrew. 

18.  Scythian  family:  its  territory;  other  names  for  it;  its  brancnes. 
ly.   Ugrian  branch:  its  position  and  divisions;  Samoyedic  branch. 

20.  Turkish  branch:   historic  career  of  the  Turks;  divisions  of  the  branch;  rela- 
tion of  their  dialects. 
;  21.  Mongolian  branch:  its  conquests ;  its  present  condition  and  territory. 
1  22.  Tungusic  branch:  its  situation  and  divisions;  the  Manchus  in  China. 

23.  I^ature  of  Scythian  activity;  literatures  of  the  Manchus  and  Mongols;  of 
the  Uigurs,  and  the  Jagataic  and  Osmanli  Turks;  of  Hungarians ;  of  Finns. 

24.  Asserted  Ugrian  dialect  of  As^'rian  monuments. 

25.  Uncertainty  of  the  tie  coniiecthig  the  Scythian  branches;  possible  explana* 
tions  of  their  discordance;  their  correspondence  morphological  rather  than 
material;  their  agglutinative  type;  meaning  and  value  of  this. 

26.  Scythian  structure:  derivation  by  sutHxes;  invariable  roots;  harmonic 
sequence  of  vowels;  regularity  and  complication  of  inflection. 

27.  Scythian  declension;  conjugation,  as  illustrated  from  Turkish;  imperfect 
distinction  of  nouns  and  verbs;  syntactical  construction. 

28.  Differences  of  structure  among  the  Scythian  branches ;  their  present  classi- 
fication provisional. 

LECTUllE  IX. 

1.  Review:  the  families  of  language  already  treated. 

2.  Partial  uncertainty  of  genetic  classification ;  our  knowledge  of  some  families 
imperfect;  differences  of  investigators  and  their  results. 

3.  Doubt  as  to  unity  of  the  Scythian  family;  the  so-called  Turanian  family;  its 
worthlessness;  origin  of  the  name. 

4.  Dra  vidian  group  of  languages;  its  territory  ;  its  principal  dialects;  their  situa- 
tion and  culture;  structure  of  Dravidian  language;  its  relation  to  Scythian. 

5.  Languages  of  north-easteni  Asia:  the  Japanese;  its  structure,  dialects,  litera- 
ture, and  writing;  Corean;  Kurilian;  Kamchatkan;  other  languages  of  ex- 
treme north-east:  their  relation  to  problem  of  origin  of  American  population. 

6.  Monosyllabic  languages;  their  grade  and  mode  of  structure;  illustralinns^ 
Chinese  and  English;  comparative  phrases;  relations  of  the  monosyliAbic 
tongues  to  one  another;  evidence  of  their  unity. 

7.  China:  antiquity,  persistency, and  value,  of  Chinese  culture;  its  decay;  Con- 
fucius, his  work;  Chinese  literature. 

8-  Character  of  Chinese  language;  phonetic  form,  number,  and  office  of  its 
words;  their  written  signs;  grouping  of  its  words;  classitiers  and  signs  of  parts 
of  speech,  approach  to  agglutination;  value  of  the  Chinese. 


486  ANALYSIS. 

9.  Languages  of  Farther  India;  their  culture  and  character;  languages  of  tin 
Himalaya;  Tibetan  language  and  literature. 

10.  Malay-Polynesian  faniiiy:  its  extent;  culture  among  its  languages;  then 
unity;  llieir  phonetic  structure;  roots;  inflection  of  verb  :ind  noun. 

11.  Melanesian  languages;  tribes  speaking  them;  their  diverr-ity;  their  struc- 
ture     Languages  of  Australia. 

12  Egiptian  language:  antiquity  of  Kgyptian  culture;  its  monuments  and  rec- 
ords; their  decipherment;  (Coptic;  hieratic  and  demotic  Egyptian. 

13.  Other  African  languages,  claimed  to  !)f  akin  with  Kgyptian;   Hamitic  family. 

14.  Structure  of  Kgyptian  language;  poverty  and  ambiguity  of  its  forms;  gender; 
claimed  relationship  of  Hamitic  and  Semitic  languages. 

15.  Languages  of  the  rest  of  Africa;  ditliculty  of  their  treatment;  South- African 
family;  its  prefixes;  inflection  of  nouns  and  verbs;  clicks;  their  derivation. 
Languages  of  the  middle  of  the  continent. 

It*  Languages  of  America:  dithculties  of  the  problem  they  present;  American 
culture;  '"solatiou  of  the  dialects;  variety  of  external  conditions;  peculiar 
chaugcableness  ;  modern  date  of  our  knowledge. 

17.  Probable  unity  of  American  language;  its  polysynthetic  structure;  what  is 
meant  by  this;  traces  of  it  elsewhere;  other  evidences  of  relationship. 

18.  Discordance  of  material  in  Amorican  languages;  principal  groups  in  North 
America. 

19.  Question  of  derivation  of  American  aborigines;  futility  of  attempting  its 
settlement  at  present  ;  what  we  have  first  to  do;  w'ild  theories  upon  the  sub- 
ject; claims  upon  us  of  the  study  of  .\merican  language  and  arcluvology. 

20.  Isolated  languages:  the  Basque;  its  place,  character,  and  possible  value; 
Etruscan;  its  alleged  relationsliip;  Caucasian  languages;  Albanian;  Yen- 
isean ;  other  like  cases  possible. 

LECTURE  X. 

1.  Review:  synopsis  of  the  families  of  language. 

2.  Varying  degrees  of  certainty  of  the  genetic  classification;  morphological  e^^- 
dence;  its  value  as  compared  with  material. 

3.  Morphological  division  of  languages  into  two  classes;  constituents  and  charac- 
teristics of  the  classes;  the  division  not  absolute;  one-sided. 

4  Morpbological  division  into  three  classes;  their  characteristics;  their  descrip- 
tion not  exhaustive;  the  two  liigher  classes  not  homogeneous;  the  inflective 
prnciplo;  its  value;  polysynthetic  class. 

b    Parallel  of  the  tbreefold  division  with  political  conditions;  its  weakness. 

9  S'hleicher's  scheme  of  morphologi«al  notation;  its  application  to  mono.syllabic 
.anguages;  to  agglutinative;  to  inflective;  its  value. 

T.  Variety  of  the  cliaracteristics  to  be  taken  account  of  in  judging  a  language; 
structure  not  sufficient;  significant  content;  difhculty  of  a  classification  by  ab 
solute  value. 

I.  FuiHlamenfal  and  superior  importance  of  the  genetic  classification;  its  con 
nection  with  ethnology. 


ANALYSIS.  487 

•.  Non -accordance  of  the  linguistic  and  physical  classifications  of  human  races; 
their  final  reconciliation  necessarj^;  vrhat  can  now  be  done  toward  it. 

I'J.  Relation  of  lani^uage  to  race:  erroneous  views;  their  refutation;  languag-a 
not  the  certain  sigu  of  race,  nor  mixture  of  language  the  representation  of  mix- 
ture of  races;  caution  thus  imposed  on  the  linguistic  etlinologist. 

il  Language  a  generally  trustworthy  indica  ion  of  race;  mixture  of  races  the 
disturl)iug  force  in  all  ethnology;  mixture  of  speech  accompanies  mixture 
of  communities,  and  often  its  onh'  traceable  sign. 

12.  Abnormal  extension  of  a  language  dependent  on  culture  and  literature;  ex 
ampies,    Latin  and  Arabic;  evidence   of  language  more  trustwortiiy  in  more 
ancient  and  ruder  times. 

13.  Diawbacks  to  pliysical  evidence  of  race;  modification  of  race- type;  value  ol 
linguistic  evidence  to  the  physical  ethnologist. 

Li.  Indo-Kuropean  speech  and  race ;  view  sometimes  held  as  to  their  relation; 
false  assumption;  use  of  tiie  analogy  of  the  Latin;  its  impropi'iety ;  extension 
of  Indo-European  iangua.^e  to  be  explained  mamly  by  that  of  a  race. 

15.  Superior  availability  ot  linguistic  evidence  of  i"ace  in  respect  to  apprehensi- 
bilily,  and  ease  of  record  and  study;  examples  of  its  value;  pregnane^'  of  lan- 
guage with  historical  indications;  its  part  in  ethnology. 

16.  Difficulty  of  the  ethnological  problem;  its  analogy  with  the  geological. 

17.  Bearing  of  language  on  the  question  of  human  unity;  negative  value  of  its 
evidence. 

18.  llnpos^ibility  ofjiroving  by  language  the  diversity  of  human  races;  unlim- 
ited variability  of  speech;  none  of  its  existing  differences  irreconcilable  with 
unity  of  origin. 

19.  Impossibility  of  proving  unit}'  of  the  human  race  by  language;  this  impossi- 
bility a  practical  one. 

20.  Dilticulties  of  etymologic  research;  diversity  of  words  historically  connected; 
re.-einblances,  in  form  and  meaning,  of  words  unconnected;  examples. 

21-  Frequency  of  false  etymologies;  delusive  signs  of  relationship  discoverable 
betv/een  any  two  known  languages;  Swift's  burlesque;  its  serious  counterpai'ts ; 
apijlication  of  tlie  doctrine  of  chances  to  linguistic  coincidences;  its  futility. 

22.  Effect  of  fortuitous  resemblances  in  frustrating  inquir}'  into  the  ultimate  rela- 
tionship of  linguistic  families;  signs  of  this  relationship  discoverable  only  in 
original  roots;  impossibility  of  re;iching  back  to  the  historical  beginnings  of 
most  families;  accidental  correspondences  among  roots. 

23.  Worthlessness  of  the  traced  radical  correspondences  between  different  fami- 
lies; impossibility  of  their  extension  through  all  the  families;   general  c(u 
chision. 

LECTURE  XI 

1.  Rkview:  heads  of  the  last  lecture;  unpractical  character  of  the  qi  estion  of 
human  unity. 

2.  Origin  of  language:  an  extra-historical  inquiry;  but  prepared  for  and  simpli- 
fied by  our  historical  investigations;  how  much  is  left  to  be  solved. 

8.  Whether  men  could  produce  the  beginnings  of  speech;    theorv  of  its  divm# 


488  ANALYSIS. 

origin;    this  theory  unnecessary;   its  -weakness,  as  generally  held;   in  wha 
sense  it  is  true;  inadmissible  sr.ppo<ition  sometimes  made. 

4.  Analogy  between  language,  and  clothing  and  shelter;  their  necessity ;  thaii 
rude  beginnings;  their  development  and  perfection. 

5.  Sourc-u  of  the  impulse  to  produce  speech;  it  is  from  ■without,  coming  from 
dtjsire  of  coiumunicutiou ;  language  a  social  possession,  production,  and  need; 
impossible  to  a  solitary  man. 

it.  Language  and  thought  not  identical;  in  what  sense  man  speaks  because  he 
thinks. 

7.  Considerations  showing  the  non-identity  of  thought  and  speech:  impeifeclion 
of  ^peech  as  representation  of  lliought;  one's  power  of  expression  unequal  to 
his  power  of  conception  and  judgment;  variety  of  expression  for  same 
thought  —  e.  (J.,  in  English,  Latin,  French,  Chinese;  externality  of  the  tie 
between  idea  and  word ;  learnmg  to  think  in  a  new  tongue. 

8.  Essential  imlikeness  of  thought  and  its  spoken,  or  its  acted,  expression. 

9.  Whether  thought  and  speech  are  co-extensive;  claim  that  ideas  cannot  exist 
without  words;  its  futility;  illustration  of  word-making;  the  idea  always 
anterior  to  the  word. 

10.  Incommensurability  of  thought  and  speech ;  how  far  and  in  what  sense  we 
think  with  Avoids;  we  put  our  thought  into  words. 

11.  What  mental  action  is  to  be  called  thought;  thought  present  in  the  deaf- 
mute;  and,  in  a  measure,  in  the  lower  animals;  the  latter's  approach  to  ca- 
pacity of  language. 

12.  DifTerence  in  mental  action  between  men  and  lower  animals;  instance,  the 
crow's  capacity  of  counting;  its  limits;  how  man  transcends  these  limits; 
points  of  superiority  of  his  powers;  abstraction  of  qualities. 

13.  Aid  rendered  by  language  to  the  progress  of  knowledge  of  numbers;  farther 
aid  of  written  signs;  peculiar  ideality  of  mathematical  conceptions;  yet  all 
their  signs  devised  by  speakers;  their  development  in  different  races ;  fortuitoug 
basis  of  our  decimal  sj'stem. 

14.  High  importance  of  language  to  the  cleamess  and  reach  of  mental  action; 
speech  an  instrumentality  which  the  mind  creates  and  works  with. 

15.  Conclusion:  speech  the  assistant  of  thought;  language  and  culture  impossible 
without  sociality;  the  beginnings  of  speech  signs  of  ideas,  devised  for  communi- 
cation ;  what  remains  of  the  problem  of  origin. 

16.  The  voice  as  means  of  expression;  recommended  by  availability,  not  im- 
posed by  necessity;  other  means;  gesture;  its  employment  by  the  doaf  and 
dumb;  its  naturalness,  and  capacity  of  development;  its  original  importance 
and  present  office;  superiority  of  the  voice. 

17  Significance  of  first  signs;  why  they  denoted  action  and  quality;  evervthing 
in  all  language,  designated  Dy  reference  to  these;  impossibility  of  directly 
signifying  concrete  objects;  various  convertibility  of  lirst  signs. 

18  riieories  rej^ecting  the  origin  of  roots:  onomatopoetic  theory;  interjecfional 
theory;  resonance  theory;  groundlessness  of  the  last;  its  implication  of  a  mira- 
cle; its  discordance  with  linguistic  history. 

19.  Substantial  value  of  the  other  theories;  efficiency  of  the  imitative  principle 
it:"  inclusion  of  both;  of  a  more  subjective  symbolisir     misuse  of  'lio  'atter 


ANALYSIS.  489 

2D.  Fundamental  principle  of  the  first  language-making;  value  of  tone  and 
gesture. 

21.  Relation  of  imitative  signs  to  their  ideas ;  aid  of  accompanying  circumstances; 
variety  of  designation. 

22.  Efiacement  of  the  traces  of  imitative  origin ;  common  weakness  of  the  defend- 
ers of  the  onomatopoetic  theorj'. 

23.  Deficiencies  of  our  knowledge  as  to  earliest  history  of  speech;  scantiness  of 
the  first  language;  rise  and  final  prevalence  of  word-making  by  derivation. 

24.  Reproach  to  which  our  view  of  the  subject  is  exposed;  its  groundlessness 
common  eiTor  of  linguistic  scholars. 

LECTURE  XII, 

1.  Review:  conclusions  reached  in  the  last  lecture ;  their  accordance  witli  the 
results  of  our  previous  inquiries. 

2.  Why  men  alone  speak;  essential  characteristic  of  human  speech;  supe- 
riority of  man:  instinct  and  reason;  intelligence  of  animals;  their  power  to 
form  general  ideas  ;  their  most  important  deficiency  ;  their  degrees  ot 
approach  to  speech. 

3.  Advantage  of  speech;  its  relation  to  our  social  nature  and  to  the  development 
of  our  powers;  means  of  handing  down  accumulated  knowledge;  growth  and 
transmission  of  culture. 

4.  Education  gained  in  acquisition  of  language  itself;  analogy  between  linguis- 
tic training  of  a  child  and  that  of  the  race;  between  the  child's  acq  aisition  of 
language  and  of  knowledge;  between  invention  of  language  and  that  of  the 
locomotive  engine;  problem  set  before  the  language-makers,  and  mode  of  its 
solution;  results  of  mental  labor  deposited  in  words. 

5.  Constraint  imposed  in  acquisition  of  language;  how  brought  to  our  apprehen- 
sion; influence  of  pa^t  generations  of  speakers. 

6.  Extent  to  which  different  races  have  availed  themselves  of  the  advantages 
implied  in  language;  lowest  and  highest  degrees. 

7.  Necessity  of  writing  to  fullest  development  of  uses  of  speech;  writttn  language 
the  complement  and  continuation  of  spoken;  tends  to  unify  the  whole  race. 

8.  Writing  has  a  historj'  of  development;  its  first  impulse;  notable  analogy  ia 
this  respect  with  speech;  written  language  at  first  independent  of  spoken. 

9.  Mnemonic  and  symbolic  objects  as  forerunners  of  writing;  instances  of  their 
use;  fullest  elaboration  of  the  method,  the  quippos. 

10.  Picture-writing;  American  example;  germ  of  another  method  contained  in 
this:  analogous  stage  of  speech. 

11.  ^lexican  picture-writing;  phonetic  elements  in  it;  difference  of  opinion  as 
to  its  general  character. 

12.  Egyptian  writing:  character  of  the  sj'Stem;  its  inferrible  initial  stage;  homon- 
ymy  and  symbolism  in  the  hieroglyphs;  derivation  of  phonetic  and  alphabetic 
signs ;  mixture,  in  practice,  of  signs  of  various  kind ;  derivation  of  hieratic 
and  demotic  modes  of  writing;  Coptic  alphabet. 

13.  Chinese  writing:  its  forerunners;  its  beginnings,  hieroglyphs;  their  combma 


490  ANALYSIS. 

ticn :  symbolic  application  ;    introduction  of  a  phonetic  element;  Jllugtratiou 

sijrns  used  in  mauy  coniiiiuations. 
J4.  Chantres  otf'orin  ot  the  Chinese  characters;  analogies  in  speech,  relations  o* 

(.'iiiuese  writing  to  the  language  it  rt-presents. 
Id-  (Jiineii'orm  modes  of  writing;   their  variety;   their  beginnings;   reason   of 

tiieir  form:   I'er.-ian  alphabt-tic  cuneiform. 

16.  Syllal)ic  alphabets:  examples,  Japanepo  and  Cherokee. 

17.  I'artinlly  syllabic  alphabets;  ancient  Semitic;  ground  of  its  peculiar  char- 
acter; I'henician  alpliabet:  its  possible  derivation ;    names  of  its  letters. 

18.  Spread  of  the  I'henician  alphabet;  its  perfection  by  the  Greeks;  first  realiza- 
tion of  the  idea  of  a  true  alphabet. 

19    Derivatives  of  the  Greek  al|)habet;  the  Latin  alphabet. 

20.  Derivation  of  English  letters;  G^-eek  conversions  of  Phenician  signs,  and 
additions;  Latin  moditications,  omissions,  and  additions;  later  moditications 
and  additions- 

21.  Relation  of  Knglish  written  alphabet  to  spoken;  causes  of  anomalous  Eng- 
lish orthograpliy. 

22.  Demerits  of  English  mode  of  spelling;  ground  on  which  its  maintenance 
may  be  defended;  false  grounds  on  which  it  is  commonly  supported;  worth- 
lessness  of  the  etymologic  principle ;  reasons  for  wishing  a  phonetic  reform. 

23.  Prospects  of  the  English  as  a  world-language;  its  character  as  a  language, 
judged  !)}■  the  test  of  literature;  value  of  tliis  test;  the  two  marked  peculi;iritiei 
of  tlie  language:  its  uninflective  character;  analogy  and  contrast  with  Cliinesi 
in  this  respect;  its  mixed  structure;  compensating  advantages  of  the  latter. 

24.  General  condu.^ion;  influences  to  be  relied  upon  for  maintaining  ani  in* 
proving  Entrlish. 


INDEX. 


A^  the  letter,  derivation  of,  464. 

a,  flattening  of,  in  dance.,  etc.,  43. 

a  or  an,  article,  115. 

-aljle,  40-41. 

vbgt)((cf,  112. 

Abvssiiiia.  Semitic  languages  of,  297, 
29^. 

Abvssinian  group  of  Hamitic  langua^s, 
tkl,  343. 

Accent,  uiakes  unity  of  word,  56;  how 
produced,  89;  its  various  place  in 
ditfereiit  languages,  95-6. 

Accidental  corresjumdences  between 
words  unrelated,  18".,  243-4,  387-91. 

Achicnienidan  nionmnents,  222;  char- 
acter in  which  they  are  written,  4()0. 

Ac'fjiiisition  of  language,  how  nuide, 
11-20;  acfiuisition  of  mental  training 
and  knowledge  involved  in  it,  442-5. 

Adelung.  relerrcd  to,  4. 

Adjectives,  in  Indo-Kuropcan  language, 
275 ;  luiglish  nouns  directly  con- 
vertible into,  282. 

Adverbs  in  Indo-European  language, 
275-G. 

JEaWc  dialect  of  ancient  Greek,  221. 

Alglum  or  Pushto  language,  192,  224. 

Ali-ica,  languages  of,  297,  299,  340-46. 

af/fiin,  115. 

Agglutinative  structure  of  Scythian 
languages,  316-20;  of  Dravidian,  327. 

Agglutinative  tongues,  their  charac- 
teristics, classitication,  and  relations, 
360-65. 

Ainos,  language  of,  329. 

alns,  277. 

Albanian  language,  descendant  of  an- 
cient Illyrian,  191,  290-91,  355. 

Alemannic  dialect  of  Old  High-Ger- 
man, 1G3,  211. 

Alforas  of  Australia,  language  of,  340. 

Algonquin  group  of  American  lan- 
guages, 350. 

ally,  29. 

alms,  29,  102,  387. 

ilphahet.,  460. 


Alphabet,  spoken,  structure  and  k.'* 
tions  of,  91;  primitive  alphabet  (if 
Indo-European  language,  265;  it^ 
development,  266;  limited  alphabets 
of  Polynesian  languages,  338. 

Alphabet,  written,  germs  of  in  Egypt, 
454-5;  derivation  oi"  alphabetic  cu- 
neiform, 460;  syllabic  alphabets,  460- 
61;  Semitic  alphabet  and  its  deriva- 
tives, 461-3;  Greek  and  its  deriva- 
tives, 463;  Latin,  464-6;  Englisli, 
466-7. 

aho,  111,  114. 

Altaic  family  of  languages  —  see  Scy- 
thian. 

am,  62-3,  115,  135,  267. 

America,  the  English  language  in,  151, 
171-4. 

America,  aboriginal  languages  of.  346- 
53:  their  variety  and  changeablc- 
ness,  34(!-7;  probable  unity,  348* 
polysynthetic  structure,  348;  princi- 
pal groups  in  North  America,  350 
-51  ;  question  of  their  relation  to 
Asiatic  languages,  330,  351;  absurd 
theories  respecting  this,  352;  impor- 
tance to  us  of  their  study,  352. 

American  aborigines,  examples  of  pict- 
ure-writing by,  450-52. 

Amharic  language,  of  Abyssinia,  297, 
299. 

an  or  a,  article,  115. 

-ana,  140. 

Analogies,  extension  of  prevailing,  its 
influence  in  producing  the  changes 
of  language,  27-8.  82,  85. 

Analogies  between  linguistic  and  cer- 
tain physical  science,  46-7,  52. 

Analysis,  etymological,  of  words,  55 
seq.;  is  the  retracing  of  a  previous 
historical  synthesis,  6.5-7,  251-4; 
indispensable  in  comparison  of  lan- 
guages, 246. 

Analvtical  ten  dene  v  in  modern  lan- 
guages, 120,  279;'^its  ground,  280-86 

ar^,  115. 

(491) 


49'J 


INDEX. 


Andaman  islands,  people  and  language 
of,  ;33!J. 

Anjilo-Saxon  language,  ancestor  of 
English,  24;  its  relations  to  the  other 
Germanic  languages,  210. 

Animals  lowtT  than  man,  mental  ac- 
tion of,  414-17,  4;]0;  how  near  some 
of  them  appmacii  to  capacity  of  lan- 
guage, 415,  440;  reason  of  their  inca- 
pacity, 438-40. 

Anuamese  language,  336. 

Antitjuity  of  human  race,  205,  382-3. 

(ip/>rtlitnil.  112,  133. 

Arabic  alphabet,  origin  and  difiusion 
of,  462. 

Arabic  language,  294,  296-7,301  seq., 
30G ;  its  literature,  2;j9-300;  its  spread, 
299,  30U,  346,  375. 

Aramaic  branch  of  Semitic  languages, 
297,  298. 

Arbitrariness  and  conventionality  of 
words,  as  signs  for  ideas,  14,  32,  71, 
102,  438.  » 

Armenian  language,  192,  224;  char- 
acter in  which  it  is  written,  463. 

Armorican  language  of  Drittanv,  190, 
218. 

Arrow-headed  characters  —  see  Cunei- 
form. 

Articles,  origin  of,  115,  276. 

Articulate  soun<ls,  how  produced,  70, 
87-91 ;  their  systematic  aiTangement 
and  relations,"  91 ;  transitions,  !t2-8; 
office  as  means  of  expression,  421-3; 
have  no  inherent  natural  signilicance, 
430-31;  cannot  represent  exactly  in- 
articulate sounds,  431-2. 

Artificial  languages,  50-51,  444;  arti- 
licial  terminology,  122. 

Aryan  branch  of  Indo-European  lan- 
guage, 192,  201. 

Arv-an,  name  for  Inilo-l.uropean,  192. 

<7.S*111,  114. 

Asia,  lamruages  of,  192,  222-7,  294- 
337,  354-5. 

j»ppirates,  or  aspirated  mutes,  93,  2(i5 
note. 

Assimilation  of  consonants,  93-4. 

As-imilation  of  dialects,  160-«il,  181. 

Association,  mental,  the  only  tie  be- 
twi.'tn  words  and  their  meanings 
14,  71,  128,  409-10. 

Assyrian  people  and  language,  295,  297. 

Itiiapaskan    group   of  American    lan- 
guages, 350. 
Jliii'/,  178. 

AfjMuation  of  the  meaning  of  words 
ami  eletnents  of  words,  114-20. 

•At'ic  dialect  of  ancient  Greek,  221. 


Augment  in  Indo-Europt an  verbs,  267, 

292. 
Australia,  language  of,  339—40. 
Austrian  dialect  of  C)ld  Hiyh-G'nnan 

211:   Austrian  dialectic  elements   in 

modern  German,  163. 
Auxiliary   and   relational  words,  their 

production,  117-20. 
Avesta,  Zoroastrian  scripture,  222 
Aztecs,  language  of,  351. 

Baber,  the  emperor,  memoirs  of,  313. 

Bantu  family  —  see  South-African. 

Hashkir,  Turkish  language,  310. 

Basque  language,  in  Spain,  191,  353-4 
363. 

Bavarian  dialect  of  Old  High-Genmin, 
163,  211. 

be,  115. 

be^r,  242. 

become,  108. 

btfall,  113. 

Beginnings,  of  Indo-European  lan- 
guage, 250  seq.;  of  language  iu  gen- 
eral', 423-6. 

Bengali  language,  224. 

Beowulf,  Anglo-Saxon  poem,  210. 

Berber  languages,  341,  343. 

better,  331. 

bishop,  244,  387. 

bl'iine,  2ti2. 

blast,  262. 

Bleek,  Dr.  W.  H.  J.,  referred  to,  3.M 
note. 

bi^aril,  107. 

bo'ils'Oniii,  72. 

bofli/,  1 15. 

Boiieniian  language,  191,  214. 

Bupp,  I'rot'ossor  i'ranz,  referred  to,  5 
200,  245  note. 

I'ornu,  language  of,  346. 

Borrowing  of  foreign  words,  its  range 
and  amoimt,  185.  197-8;  into  Eng- 
lish vocabulary,  143-7. 

boio-wow.  425. 

Bow-wow  theorv  of  origin  of  language, 
426  seq. 

Brahui  language,  327. 

breokfitst,  5(5. 

Breton  language,  190,  218. 

brother,  196 

lirown,  Kev.  N.,  referred  to,  337  nota, 

Uulgariau  language.  191,  214. 

Burials,  language  of,  312. 

Burmese  lanjruage,  33(»,  3.50. 

Burnout",  M.  l.ugene,  retened  to,  5. 

r.uslunen,  lauguage  of,  341,  345. 

butterjij,  71. 


INDEX. 


403 


C,  the  letter,  derh'ation  of,  465. 

Qegar,  105-ti. 

calculate,  ViO. 

Caldwell,  Kev.  R.,  referred  to,  327  note. 

calm,  468. 

Cambodian  language,  336. 

con,  111. 

Cai'.aauitic  branch  of  Semitic  languages, 
297. 

(Janarese  language,  3-26. 

candi>/,  127,  J  33. 

candidate,  126,  127,  131,  133. 

Carthage,  language  ot,  295,  298. 

Cases,  their  number,  origin,  and  office 
in  Indo-European  language,  271-5; 
their  loss  in  English,  77 ;  in  other 
languages,  274;  replacement,  28^-81; 
cases  in  Semitic  language,  304;  in 
Scythian,  319. 

Castren,  l'rofe.--sor  Alexander,  referred 
to,  310,  315. 

Caucasian  languages,  354-5. 

Celtic  languages,  obliterated  by  Latin 
in  southern  Europe,  166,  216-17;  by 
Germanic  language  in  England,  169'; 
their  classification,  age,  literatures, 
etc.,  190,  215-18  ;  tlieir  jjosition  in 
Indo-European  family,  204. 

Celtoniania,  216. 

Central  America,  language  and  culture 
of,  347,  351. 

Chaldee  language,  297,  298. 

Champollion,  referred  to,  341. 

Chances,  doctrine  of,  as  applied  to  lin- 
guistic resemblances,  390. 

Change,  linguistic,  its  kinds,  necessity, 
and  universality,  24-33;  forces  pro- 
ducing it,  35-46,  48-9;  considerations 
determining  it  in  special  cases,  41; 
phonetic  or  external  change,  42-3; 
constructive,  55-65,  70,  73-4  ;  de- 
structive, 74-98;  internal  change,  of 
meaning,  100-135,  141-2;  relations 
of  external  and  internal  change,  101; 
varying  rate  and  kind  of  change,  137- 
53;  processesof  change  are  what,  154; 
linguistic  change  causes  the  growth 
of  dialects,  154-5,  159 ;  generally  of 
slow  and  gradual  progress,  44,  123, 
183,  277-8;  exceptional  cases  of  rapid 
change,  137,  291,  347. 

ch'iriti],  102. 

Cheremiss  language,  309. 

Cherokee  language,  350;  word-phrase 
of,  349;  alphabet  of  native  invention, 
461. 

Ohinese  language,  its  age.  233-4,  332; 
monosyllabic  character,  257,  330-31, 
359;  history,  literature,  etc.,  332-6; 


merit,  336,  367;  supplemented  by  itf 
written  characters,  458  ;  compared 
witli  English,  331,471-2. 

Chinese  writing,  preced>-d  by  use  ol 
knolted  cords,  450,  455;  liistory  o! 
455-9  ;  relation  to  the  spoken  Ian 
guage,  458. 

Choctaw  language,  350. 

Chuana  family  —  see  South- African. 

Chukchi  language,  329. 

church,  472. 

Churcii-Slavic  language,  214. 

Circassian  language,  354. 

Civilization,  degree  of,  of  Indo-Euro- 
pean mother-tribe,  207-8. 

Classilicati<m  of  languages,  by  genetic 
relationsiiip,  how  etiected,  185-6,  290; 
review  of  families  thus  established, 
292-357;  its  uncertainties,  323,  357- 
8  ;  its  preeminent  value,  369-70; 
classiiicaiion  by  structural  corre- 
spondence, 358-67 ;  bv  positive  value, 
367-9. 

Classification  of  conceptions,  learned 
along  w^ith  language,  12. 

cleave,  387. 

Clicks  in  South  African  languages,  345. 

Clothing,  analogv  between  language 
and,  401-3. 

Cochin-Chiiia,  language  of,  336. 

cock,  429. 

cockade,  429. 

Comanche  language,  351. 

Com'nnation  of  independent  elements 
into  words,  55-67;  our  words  univer- 
sally so  made  up,  65-7,  251-5;  com- 
bination promotes,  and  is  aided  by, 
phonetic  change,  70,  73-4;  accompa- 
nied by  change  of  meaning,  116; 
now  of  limited  range  in  English,  143, 
147-8,  282. 

comfoit,  133. 

Communication,  its  possibility  makes 
the  unity  of  a  language,  22,  157 ;  it 
keeps  language  uniform,  155-61, 183; 
impulse  to  it,  the  immediate  producer 
of  spoken  language,  403-5;  of  writ- 
ing, 448-9. 

Community,  makes  and  changes  lan- 
guage, 45,  123,  148,  404;  preserves 
unity  of  a  language,  155;  how  and 
within  what  limits  it  works,  156-8, 
161;  effects  of  external  conditions 
upon,  159. 

Comparative  method  in  modem  study 
of  language,  3,  240-48  ;  how  to  be 
applied,  241-6 :  not  a  mere  compari- 
son of  words,  246-7  ;  its  universaJ 
reach,  248. 


494 


INDEX. 


Comparative  phU>.'loffy,  3,  241. 

Composition  of  words  —  seu  Combina- 
tion. 

concitte,  112. 

Confucius,  representative  man  of  China, 
334. 

Coiijuuation,  forms  of,  in  Indo-Euro- 
pean laiif^uago,  26G-9  ;  in  its  later 
dialocts,  2(J<-70;  tiieir  loss  by  plio- 
netic  corruption  in  Enp.lish,  75-7, 
8(1-7  ;  c(tnJii^atioual  tornis  in  Se- 
mitic language,  303  ;  in  Scvthian, 
3  l'J-2U. 

Conjugations,  irregular  and  regular,  in 
i:ugli>h,  7!)-82. 

Conjugations,  of  Semitic  verb,  304;  of 
Scythian,  319 ;  of  Soutii-African,  345. 

Conjunctions,  in  Indo-European  lan- 
guage, 27(;. 

Consciousiu'ss,  different  degrees  of,  in 
the  processes  of  language-making, 
4U-41,  50,  121-4. 

Consciousness,  ditl'erent  subjection  of 
mental  action  to,  in  man  and  lower 
animals,  440. 

Conservative  forces  in  linguistic  tradi- 
tion, 3l,4;{-4.  148-51,  159 

Consonants  and  vowels,  relation  of,  89, 
91. 

Constraining  influence  of  acquisition 
of  language  on  mental  action,  445-6. 

Conventionalitv  of  words,  as  signs  of 
ideas,  14,  32,  71,  128,  148,  409-10, 
438. 

cop/jtr,  130. 

Coptic  liiiigiiage,  340-41;  writing,  455. 

CO'/iK'lte,  42!). 

Corciiii  I'.nguage,  329. 

Cornish   langtuige,  216,  218. 

toil /J,  4'i8. 

count,  201. 

court,  etc.,  108. 

Ctn-cr,  388. 

Craik,  Rev.  G.  L.,  referred  to,  211  note. 

Cnnk  language,  350. 

Crow,  Its  power  of  numeration,  415-17. 

(Jiiltivated  or  learned  dialocts,  149-51, 
182-4. 

Cultivation  of  a  language,  its  meaning 
and  etlect,  182-4. ' 

Culture  and  education,  con.servative 
influence  of.  on  language,  17,  149-51, 
158-9. 

Cult  n-e,  only  possible  l)v  means  of  lan- 
gi  age,  441;  won  in  the  acijuisition 
of  language,  441-5. 

Cuneitonn  characters,  origin  of,  459-00; 
monuments,  in  these  characters,  o( 
r«£)ia,  222;  of  Assyria,  295;  Persian 


language  of,  222;  Semitic,  306;  M* 

serted  Ugrian,  314-15. 
Curtius,  Professor  George,  referred  t(\ 

200. 
Cvmric  group  of  Celtic  languages,  190 

'217. 
Cyril,  Slavic  Bible-version  of,  214. 
czar,  106. 

■d,  ending  of  English  preterits,  origie 
of,  60,  81-2,  117,  235. 

(hifjuerrei'tyije,  39. 

(Id/iii't,  146. 

Dakota  language,  350. 

Danish  language,  212. 

Darfur,  language  of,  346. 

d(iu()}iter,  196. 

Dead  languages,  149-50. 

Deaf-mutes,  language  of,  410-11,  413 
422 ;  thought  of,  414. 

deuli,  79. 

dear  me  !,  277. 

Decimal  svstem  of  numeration,  on  what 
founded,  419. 

Declension,  forms  of,  in  Indo-European 
language,  270-74;  in  its  later  dia- 
lects, 274-5;  their  loss  by  phonetic 
corruption,  77-9.  —  See  also  Cases. 

Dekhan,  languages  of,  224,  326. 

Delaware  or  Algon(|uin  group  of  Amer- 
ican languages,  350. 

Demotic,  later  Egyptian,  alphabet,  455- 

Diaiects,  their  prevalence,  153-4;  their 
explanation,  154—62  ;  causes  which 
bring  about  dialectic  diversity,  154-5 ; 
which  restrain  it,  155-6,  159;  which 
reduce  it,  160-61 ;  illustrations  of  dia- 
lectic divergence  and  convergence, 
162-74;  dialects  of  English,  170-71; 
in  America,  171-4;  dialectic  growth 
everywhere  inevitable,  174,  181-2; 
dialect  and  language  convertible 
terms,  175;  erroneous  views  respect- 
ing dialects,  177-84;  dialectic  ditfer- 
ences  alwavs  implv  original  unitv, 
178-81. 

did,  268;  Ibrms  ending  of  English  pret- 
erits. 60-61.  81-2.  235;  au.xiliary.  117. 

Ding-dong  theorv  of  origin  of  language, 
427. 

di.-^cuas,  112. 

Divine  t>rigin  of  language,  in  what 
sense  to  he  accepted,  399—403. 

di'tf:  116  262. 

don,  116,  262. 

Doric  dialect  of  ancient  Greek,  221. 

double,  (12. 

Dravidian  languages  of  southern  Indi* 
198,  326-7. 


INDEX. 


405 


Dual  number,  in  /erbs,  267;  in  nouns, 

2T3 ;  its  loss,  274. 
Dutch  language,  164.  211. 


£",  the  letter,  derivation  of,  464. 

Eddas,  Old  Norse  collections,  212. 

Education  gained  in  the  acquisition  of 
language,  13,  1-5-16.  441-.D. 

Education,  conservative  influence  of, 
upon  language.  17,  l4'J-.jl,  158-9. 

Egypt,  languages  of,  150,  2.'54,  34U-43. 

Egyptian  modes  of  writing,  452-4. 

Ehkili  language,  299. 

eillier  or  t'tt/nr,  43,  95. 

elfc/rici/y.  129. 

English  language,  how  acquired  by  its 
speakers,  lU-22  :  its  dili'erences  in 
individuals,  16-22;  what,  in  general, 
it  is,  22;  how  kept  in  existence,  23; 
its  constant  change,  24;  causes  and 
modes  of  this  ch:'nge,  25-31,  140-48: 
examples  of  the  changes  which  have 
brought  it  into  its  present  state,  55- 
6.5,  70-87,  92-5,  97,  102-34;  its  der- 
ivation and  history,  24,  31,  99,  147, 
169-7<i;  its  periods,  2IU;  mixture  of 
Germanic  and  other  elements  in  it, 
84,  144,  170,  185,  198,  373,472-3;  its 
fundamental  structure  chiefly  Ger- 
manic. 170,  198;  position  and  rela- 
tions as  a  Germanic  language.  187-9, 
210-13  ;  as  an  Indo-European  lan- 
guage. 189-20!);  its  analvticai  char- 
acter, 279.  282.  284;  prevailnig  niono- 
syllabism.  264-5,  279  ;  comparison 
with  Cliinese,  331,  471-2;  its  dialects, 
170-71;  transler  to  America,  171-2; 
British  and  American  forms  of,  172- 
4  ;  prospects  as  a  world-language, 
470;  merits,  470-74. 

English  orthugr  ipliy.  anomalies  of,  94, 
467-9;  retbrra  desirable,  469-70. 

English  spoken  alphabet,  structure  and 
relations  of,  91. 

English  written  alphabet,  derivation 
and  character  of,  466-7. 

Erse,  or  Scotch  Gaelic,  language,  190. 

Eskimo  language,  330,  350,  351. 

E>thonia,  Scythian  languages  in,  309. 

Ethiopian  or  Abyssinian  group  of  Ha- 
mitic  languages,  341,  343. 

Ethiopic  or  Geez,  a  Semitic,  language, 
297,  299. 

Ethnology,  bearing  of  linguistic  science 

on,  8,  370-94. 
Etruscan  language,  354. 
Etymology,  the  foundation  of  linguistic 
science,  54r-b,  238 ;  its  uncertainties, 


dangers,  and  ill-repute,  239,  386-94 
modern  improvements  of.  240,  244 
S86-7;  is  not  the  whole  science,  247, 
false  etymologies,  388-90. 

Etymology  of  a  word  the  explanation 
of  its  origin,  not  the  ground  of  its  use 
14,  128-9,  132-4. 

Euguvhie  tablets,  Urabrian  monu 
meuts,  220. 

Euphonv,  seat  of,  in  the  mouth,  not  the 
ear,  90. 

Europe,  languages  of,  186-91,  209-21, 
309-10.  353-5. 

Expression,  dependent  upon  an  exter- 
nal inducement,  not  an  internal  im- 
pulse. 403-5,  420-21 ;  alwavs  incom- 
plete, 20,  109-11,  400-7;  variety  of 
expression  for  same  idea  in  diflerent 
lancruages,  407-9 ;  the  voice  as  meana 
of,  421-3. 

eye,  101. 

F,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  465. 

Families  of  languages,  how  established. 
290-92. 

Family  languages,  so  called,  363. 

Fanar,  Kev.  F.  \V.,  referred  to,  vi.  note. 

Farther  India,  languages  of,  336-7. 

Jht/itr.  179. 

Feilatah  language,  346. 

Finnish  language,  191,  309,  320,  361-, 
its  literature,  314. 

Finno- Hungarian  branch  of  Scythian 
language —  see  I'grian. 

Firdusi,  Persian  poet,  223,  325. 

Jive,  196. 

Flemish  language,  211. 

Florida  group  of  American  languages, 
3-50. 

for,  114. 

J'vrthf-ufi,  5G. 

/•'i-f/et,  113. 

J'orgive,  113. 

Formative  elements,  63-7  ;  derived 
from  words  originally  independent, 
66,  251-5;  their  production  gradual 
and  unretlective,  124;  aided  by  pho- 
netic corruption,  73-4;  accompanying 
change  of  meaning,  117;  extensibil- 
ity of  their  application,  83-4  ;  theii 
distinction  as  primary  and  secondary, 
2.')5. 

fortmyfd,  56. 

frail,  111. 

Frankish  dialect  of  Old  High-German, 
163,  211. 

Freedom  of  mental  action  restricted  by 
acquisition  of  language,  445-6. 

French  language,  164-5,  189,  218-19 


496 


INDEX. 


Grermanic  and  Celtic  elements  in,  1C8, 

169,  374. 
Fricative  pound,^.  in  alphabet,  91. 
Frisian  lanLrua.i^e.  211. 
-ful,  sultix,  57,  73. 
Fulali  lanf,ain<,a',  346. 
Fusion  of  dialects  into  one,  ICl  :  cau.«:es 

(leterniiniim  character  of  residt,  1(18-9. 
Future  in  lJr)nianic  hin^ua,i;cs,  IIS;  in 

Aiiirlo-Saxon  and  lini^^lish,  119  ;   in 

Indo-European  language,  2u8. 

6',  the  letter,  derivation  of,  405. 

Gaheientz,  H.  C.  von  der,  referred  to, 
339  note. 

Gadhelic  group  of  Celtic  languages, 
190,217. 

Gaelic  languages,  190,  217. 

Galla  language,  341. 

Gallatin,  Albert,  referred  to,  249  note. 

(/'ilv'inisin,  39,  129. 

(Jaidish  languages  of  France  etc.,  216- 
17. 

Gei-z  or  Fthiopic  language,  297.  299. 

Gender,  graniniatic-ij.  in  Indn-Eiiropoan 
languages,  77-8,  273-4;  lost  in  F.ng- 
lisli,  78  ;  in  other  languages,  275; 
gender  in  Semitic  verl)s,  303;  nouns, 
304;  in  Hamitic  languages,  342;  gen- 
d!r  wanting  in  Scythian  languages, 
319;  in  other  t'aniilies,  342-3. 

(Jeuetic  relationshij)  of  languages,  186, 
2:»0;  tlieir  classilicatiou  by  it  —  see 
("lassitication. 

Genius  of  individuals,  its  efl'ect  on  lan- 
g.uige,  123. 

(/enffi'f,  fjcn/i/e,  (jentle.  111 

Geology,  general  analogy  between  and 
lingui'^tic  >cience,  -17  ;  analogies  in 
special  points,  62,  1S4.  253,  265,  382. 

Georgian  language,  354-5. 

Geiinan  language,  history  of,  162-4. 

Germanic  languages,  187-9;  their  clas- 
fiilication,  age.  literatures,  etc,  210- 
13  ;  permuiaiion  of  consonant.s  in, 
97-8;  veri)al  conjugation  of,  89-82, 
269-70. 

Germanic  race,  its  part  in  history,  231. 

Gesture  as  means  of  e.xpression,  422-3, 
431. 

(fit,  l')8. 

Guiuls,  language  of,  327. 

dot  hie  language,  213. 

-'jKtf'h,  140. 

Gree(!e,  founder  of  Indo-European  pre- 
eminence, 230-31. 
(Jreek  language,  190,220-22. 
fji'i  I II,  125. 
Greenland,  language  of,  360. 


Grimm,  Professor  Jncnb,  referred  to,  ^ 
5;  his  law  of  permutation  of  conao 
nants  in  Germanic  languages,  97-8. 

Grout,  Kev.  L.,  referred  to,  344  note. 

ffioir.  115. 

Gue-s,  (rtorge,  inventor  of  Cherokel 
alphabet,  461. 

Gyp.-y  language,  225. 

//,  the  letter,  derivation  of.  465. 

Habit,  the  ground  of  ability  in  lan- 
guage, 117,  147-8,  282. 

Hadlev,  Professor  .James,  referred  to, 
84  note,  211  note. 

Hamitic  family  of  languages,  341-3. 

f/riiif/,  115. 

Harmonic  sequence  of  vowels  in  Scyth- 
ian languages,  318,  362. 
hnre,  117-18,  199. 
hta</.  107.  115. 
Hel.rew  language,  294,  296,  297,  308, 

308:  its  alphabet,  462. 
Heldensagen,    .Middle   High -German, 

212. 
Heliand,  Old  Saxon  poem,  211. 
he/p,  30.  81.  82 
Hevse,  Professor  K.  W.  L.,  referred  to, 

427. 
Hieratic,  hiter  Egyptian,  writing.  455. 
Hieroglyphic  wriling.  450-59  ;  of  Kgypt, 

452-5;  of  China,  455-6:  h'eroglyphic 

origin  of  cuneiform  writing.  45!). 
Hiirh-German   languages,    163-4,    188, 

210.211-12. 
hW,  14. 

Himalayas,  languages  of,  337. 
Himyaritic  languaje,  297,  299. 
Hindi  language.  224. 
Hindiislaui  hiiiguage,  224. 
Historical  spelling  in  English,  94,  467. 
Hodgson,  Mr.  U.  H.,  referred  to,  337 

note. 
home,  133. 

Homer,  poems  of,  221. 
Homonyms  in   English,  334-5,  387;  in 

Chinese.  334:   how  distinguished  in 

Chinese  writing,  456-7. 
Iittrac,  195. 
Hottentots,  language  of,  341;  clicks  in 

it,  345. 
Human  race,  its  antiquity,  205,  382-o, 

its  unitv   not    determinable   l)v  Ian* 

guage,  .383-!t4. 
llumlioldt,  Willielm  von,  referred  to,  5, 

3(i7. 
Hungarian  langu:jge,  191, 309,  320.361; 

its  literature,  314;  traces  of  polysyB' 

thesis  in,  349. 
Huzvaresh  or  Pehlevi  language,  223. 


INDEX. 


407 


I.  th«  letter,  derivation  of,  404,  465. 

/  (pronoun),  101. 

Icelandic  lanf;uage,  203,  212. 

I'ie<is  antecedent  to  their  namea  125, 
412. 

lllyrian  lano:nage,  191. 

lii  itM'ion  of  natural  signs,  efficient 
luiuciple  in  the  origin  of  language, 
4_(i-3i :  not  servilely  precise,  431-2. 

'w/  rn'l'int   112. 

li;a<  curacies  of  speech,  their  causes  and 
tlnir  part  in  the  history  of  language, 
27-3 L  36-7. 

i)ifi/tp/ic(ibililies,  64. 

Incorpf)rative  or  polvsynthetic  struct- 
ure, 348-9,  354,  363. 

India,  languages  of,  224-9,  326-7;  oc- 
cupation of  its  northern  part  by  Indo- 
European  peoples,  201,  326. 

Indian,  130. 

Individuals,  all  changes  of  language 
ultimatelv  their  work,  35-46,  123^, 
125,  148,-154-5,404;  tlieir  diversity 
causes  divergence  of  dialects,  154-5; 
ditierences  of  their  speech  within  the 
same  community,  16-22,  156-8,  181. 

Indo-European  family  of  languages, 
other  names  for,  192 :  how  composed, 
186-92,210-29;  genetic  relationship 
of  its  constituents,  193, 197,  378^^;  evi- 
dences of  their  common  descent,  193- 
200 ;  interconnections  of  its  branches, 
203-4;  place  and  lime  of  its  original 
speakers  unknown,  200-205  ;  their 
civilization,  •05-8 :  importance  of  the 
family  to  linguistic  science,  3,  229-37; 
age  and  variety  of  its  dialects,  233-6 ; 
earliest  hist(»ry  of  development,  250- 
87;  historical  beginnings,  250-66; 
roots,  proi'.oniiual  and  verbal,  258- 
63;  jjrimitive  spoken  alphabet,  265; 
growth  of  forms  and  parts  of  speech, 
266-77;  rate  and  continuousne^s  of 
growth,  277-8;  synthetic  and  ana- 
lytic development,  270-86;  charac- 
teristic structure  of  Indo-European 
language,  292-4,  361-3;  question  of 
its  ultimate  connection  with  Semitic 
language,  307,  361,  394  ;  its  limits 
jirobably  mainly  coincident  Avith 
those  of  a  race,  377-9. 

t!ido-(iermanic  family — see  Indo-Eu- 
rpean. 

ii:tlectional  languages,  358. 

Infective  character  of  Indo-European 
language,  293,  361;  wherein  it  con- 
sists, 293-4,  366  note;  Semitic  lan- 
guage intlective,  300.  361;  value  of 
inflective  principle,  362. 

32 


Instinct  and  reason,  439. 

intellect,  112. 

Intellectual  terms  derived  from  phypi 
cal,  111-13. 

Interjection al  theorv  of  origin  ()f  Ian 
gu'age,  426-7.  429-30. 

Interjections,  276-7. 

Internal  change  in  language,  100-121. 

Invention  of  language  by  men,  what  1; 
meant  by,  443-4. 

Ionic  dialect  of  ancient  Greek,  221. 

Iranian  branch  of  Indo-European  Ian 
guage,  192,  222-4. 

Irish  language,  190,  217,  218. 

Iroquois  group  of  American  languages 
350. 

Irregularities  in  English  declension  and 
conjugation,  78-81. 

irrevocdbility,  254. 

is.  63,  115,  179. 

island,  468. 

isle,  468. 

-ism,  140. 

Isolating  languages  —  see  Monosylla- 
bic. 

Italian  language,  165,  168,  189,  219. 

Italic    group    of   Indo-European    lan- 
guages, 220. 

?V*-,  30. 

J",  the  letter,  derivation  of,  465,  466. 
Jagataic  Turkish  language,  313. 
Japanese  language,  328-9;    modes  oi 

writing,  329,  460-61. 
Japhetic  family — see  Indo-European. 

K,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  465. 
Katir    group    of    South -African    lan- 
guages, 345. 
Kalevala,  Finnish  poem,  314. 
Kalmucks,  language  of,  312. 
Kamchatkan  language,  329. 
Karen  language,  336. 
Khalkas,  language  of,  312. 
Khitan,  Tungusic  dynasty,  312. 
Khonds.  language  of,  327. 
Kin,  Tungusic  dynasty,  312. 
kind,  108. 
kine,  44. 

Kirghiz  language,  310. 
knight,  42. 

Kols,  language  of,  327. 
Koran,  Mohammedan  scripture,  99fc 
Koriak  language,  329. 
Kotars,  language  of.  327. 
Kroatian  language,  214. 
Kurdish  language,  192,  224. 
Kuril ian  language,  328,  329. 
Kwanto,  of  Farther  India,  336. 


498 


JNDEX. 


Jcyc,  44. 

Labia]  MTies  of  articulate  sounds,  91. 

lurl,  388. 

Liin<rna^e,  in  what  aspect  the  subject 
of  liiif^iiistic  science,  6,  10,  54;  inter- 
est of'  inqiiirie'j  into,  7-8;  how  ac- 
(j  .tired  liy  those  who  speak,  ll-"22; 
Avhat  a  ianpua^e  is,  22;  how  kept  in 
existence,  2-3 :  dead  ianguafjes,  149- 
50;  constant  chanj^e  or  ^rowtli  of 
hmguage,  24-^3  ;  by  what  instru- 
intjntah'ty  proaiiced,  35-46,  125,  154; 
])roccsses  of  growth,  55-135  ;  rate 
and  kind  of  growth,  and  causes  af- 
fecting it,  137-53;  dialects,  153-85; 
the  various  forms  of  human  lan- 
guage and  their  genetic  classitica- 
tion,  185-223,  294-357;  other  modes 
of  classification,  357-70;  relation  of 
language  to  race,  14-15,370-83;  its 
eviilence  incapable  of  determining 
the  question  of  human  unity,  383-94; 
language  an  institution,  the  work  of 
its  speakers,  48,  401-3,  442-5;  its 
conventional  character,  32,  409-10; 
it  is  a  social  product  and  possession, 
404:  part  taken  by  individuals  and 
by  the  community,  respectively,  in  its 
production,  45,  148.  154-0,  171;  lan- 
guage not  identical  with  thought,  nor 
indispensal)le  to  it,  but  its  instrument 
and  aid,  405-21;  its  imperfection  as 
means  of  expression,  1 20,  lOlJ-11, 
400-7  ;  its  value  to  man,  440-47; 
education  involved  in  its  acquisition, 
13,  15-16,  441-3;  its  constraining  in- 
fluence on  mental  action,  445-6;  its 
work  supplemented  by  writing,  447- 
9;  origin  of  language,  in  what  sense 
divine,  399-403;  desire  of  communi- 
cation its  direct  impulse,  403-5;  its 
bi,-ginnings  of  what  kind,  421-6;  how 
pi*oduced,  420-34  ;  example  of  de- 
velopment of  a  language  from  such 
beginnings,  250-87;  language  a  hu- 
man possession  onlv,  399,  414-17, 
438-40. 

Language,  science  or  study  of — see 
Linguist.c  science. 

Langue  dOc,  1()4,  218. 

Lai>ps.  language  of,  191.  309. 

La;iu  language,  its  age,  literature,  etc., 
2l'.)-20;  its  relations  in  Italy,  l(i5, 
220:  history  o*"  its  extension  in  south- 
ern Europe,  165-9;  causes  of  this, 
375,  378,  382;  its  artificially  pro- 
longed existence,  150;  its  modern 
descendants,  167,  218-19;  its  spoken 


alphabet,  405:  its  written  alphalwl 
463-4,  46.5-6. 

Latin  words,  introduction  of,  into  Eng- 
lish, 143-6;  Latinized  stvle  of  Eng- 
lish, 146. 

learn,  262. 

lt<l,  80. 

Lena,  branch  of  Turkish  language  up- 
on, 310-11. 

Lepsius,  Professor  R.,  referred  to,  93 
note,  341  note,  344  note. 

Lesgliiaa  language,  355. 

-less,  58. 

Lettish  language,  191,  215. 

Libyan  languages,  341,  343. 

lie,  75-6. 

Lite  of  a  language,  what  is  meant  by 
32,  35;  its  analogy  with  that  of  an 
organized  being,  or  of  a  race  of  such, 
46  ;  the  processes  constituting  — 
see  Change,  linguistic. 

like,  in  such  and  xdnch,  57,  70;  in -ly, 
58-60,  70,  73;  the  verb,  108,  113. 

likewise,  114. 

Lingual  series  of  articulate  sounds,  19. 

Linguistic  change  or  growth  —  see 
Change,  linguistic. 

Linguistic  evidence  of  race,  its  nature 
and  limitations,  371-9. 

Linguistic  scholars,  ditlerences  of  tera- 
perauieut  among,  324. 

Linguistic  science,  of  recent  develop- 
ment, 1;  its  preparatory  stages,  1-3; 
its  progress,  3-6;  its  material,  6,  50, 
230;  its  objects  and  their  interest, 
6-8;  what  it  seeks  in  language,  10,54, 
237 ;  analogies  between  it  and  certain 
physical  sciences,  46-48,  52;  it  is  a 
historical  science,  48-52  ;  its  trulj 
scientific  character,  53;  its  method, 
52,54-3,237-48;  its  dependence  on 
Indo-European  comparative  philolo- 
gy, 4,  233-7. 

Literary  culture,  its  influence  on  the 
history  of  language,  23,  37,  43-5, 
148-51,  159-60^ 182-4. 

Literary  languages,  149-50,174;  their 
usual  origin,  164. 

Lithuanian  group  of  languages,  191, 
215. 

Little-Russian  language,  214. 

Livonia,  Scythian  hmgudges  of,  309. 

Livonian  language,  191,  215. 

Local  dialects,  acquired  in  learning  U 
talk,  10-17. 

Loo-Cboo  islands,  language  of,  329 

lord,  388. 

lore,  262. 


INDEX. 


499 


Loss  of  words  from  the  vocabulary  of  a 
language,  27,  98-100. 

Louis,  St.,  of  France,  as  language- 
maker,  38. 

hvt,  2t;o. 

Low-German  languages,  188,  210-11. 

IwKt  etc.,  103,  104. 

lunatic,  105,  130,  131. 

Luther's  influence  ou  history  of  German 
language,  163. 

'ly.  58-60,  63,  83,  124,  235. 

Ljell,  Sir  Charles,  retierred  to,  47  note. 


magnet,  130. 

Magyar —  see  Hungarian. 

Mahratta  language,  224. 

Malayalam  or  Malahar  language,  326. 

Malay  language,  338. 

Malay-Polynesian  family  of  languages, 
337-9. 

Man,  Isle  of,  its  language,  190. 

Man,  Sole  possessor  of  language,  399, 
438  ;  dirterence  of  his  mental  ca- 
pacity and  action  from  that  of  the 
lower  animals,  414-16,  438-40;  the 
artiticer  of  his  own  speech,  48,  401-3, 
442-5;  value  of  speech  to  him,  440- 
47. 

Manchu  language,  312,  313,  320;  its 
written  character,  313,  4i>2. 

Maudingo  language,  346. 

ma  mm  tit,  130. 

manure,  111. 

Marsh,  Mr.  G.  P.,  referred  to,  211  note. 

vie,  19'l,  430. 

meav,  263. 

Melanesian  family  of  languages,  339. 

men,  79. 

Mental  action  of  men  and  animals,  com- 
parison of,  414-17,  438-40. 

Mesopotamia,  Semitic  languages  of, 
295. 

Mexico,  language  and  culture  of,  347, 
349,  351:  writing  of,  451-2. 

Middle  High-German  period  and  litera- 
ture, 212. 

INIigration,  effect  of,  on  language,  202. 

Minnesingers,  212. 

viint,  im. 

minute.  11  L 

Mishna,  Rabliinic  Hebrew  work,  297. 

Mithridates,  work  of  Adelung  etc.,  4. 

Mitsjeghian  language,  355. 

Mixture  of  langunge,  197-9;  of  ele- 
ments in  English  language,  84, 143—4, 
170,  185,  472-3. 

Mixture  of  races,  374;  its  effect  upon 
language,  160-61,  168,  374-6. 


Mnemonic  objects,  as  forerunners  a' 
writing,  450. 

Modern  Greek  language,  221. 

Mceso-Gothic  language,  60,  199,  213 
235. 

jNlohammed,  arouser  of  the  Arab  race 
296. 

mouey,  130.  131.  247-8. 

Mongolian  family  —  see  Scythian. 

Mongolian  branch  of  Scythian  lan- 
guages, 311-12,  313,  320-  its  wriitec 
character,  313,  4f)2. 

Monosyllabic  family  of  languages,  330- 
37;  monosyll;ibic  class,  358-05. 

Mono.«yllabism,  primitive,  of  Indo- 
Euro;»ean  language,  25.5-66,  279-86  ; 
secondary  monosyllaldsm  of  English 
etc.,  264,  271' ;  compared  with  Chi- 
nese, 331,  472. 

month,  104. 

Moods  of  Indo-Europe;in  verb,  208;  of 
Semitic,  303. 

vwon,  103-5. 

Moral  terms  derived  from  physical, 
111-13. 

Moravian  language,  214. 

Mordwinian  language,  309. 

Morphological  correspondence  as  sigr 
of  genetic  relationship,  201,  332, 
357-8  ;  systems  of  morphological 
classiiication,  358-67. 

mother,  196. 

mnint'iin,  14. 

Miiller,  Professor  JMax,  quoted  or  re- 
ferred to,  vii ,  4  note.  35.  51  note 
177  note,  180,  317.  ;>60,  363,  427. 

Mutes,  class  of  articulations,  91;  aspi- 
rated. 205  note. 

Mutes,  language  of —  see  Deaf-mutes. 

Nabatean  literature,  298. 

Names-giving,  processes  of,  25-6,  38- 
42,  103-31,  411-12.  424-6;  different 
degrees  of  reflectiveness  in,  121-4, 
are  historical,  and  founded  in  con- 
venience only,  127,  129;  compara- 
tive ease  of  naming  different  classes 
of  conceptions,  194-5. 

Namolio  language.  329. 

Nasal  articulations,  91. 

National  character  as  expressed  is 
speech,  152. 

Negative  prefix,  292. 

Negritos,  language  of,  339. 

Nestorian  people  and  language,  298. 

Netherlands,  language  of,  211. 

Nt  10 fo undid nd,  71-2. 

New  Guinea  and  neighboring  islandf 
language  of,  339. 


500 


INDEX. 


New  nigh-German  period  of  German, 
212. 

Nibfliin<ren-lie(i.  old  German  epic,  212. 
Nomadic  laiiguatre?.  so  called,  W-i. 
Norman.-,  adoption  of  Frencli  language 

bv,  10 J ;  their  introduction  of  it  into 

England,  Ifi'J,  18U. 
Norwegian  langua;ie,  212. 
Nouns,  substantive  and  adjective,  their 

dcvrlopnu-nt    from     roots,     270-75  ; 

(|ut  stion  \vbetlier  nouns  or  verbs  are 

original,  ■i2-j-G. 
Numbers,  in  conjugation,  267;   in  de- 

cltMision,  273;  in  Semitic  languages, 

3U;J,  304:;    in  Polynesian  languages, 

339. 
Numerals  as  proofs  of  Indo-European 

unity,  lit-l;  examples,  lyii. 
Numeration     in     Indo-European     and 

other  languages,  419;    reason  of  its 

usual  decimal  basis,  419. 

0,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  464. 

Obsolete  and  obsolescent  words,  98-9. 

of,  111,  114,  liO. 

of.  111,  114. 

Old  IJactrian  language,  222. 

Old  iligh-Gernian  period  of  German, 
211. 

Old  Norse  language  —  see  Icelandic. 

Old  l*nis>ian  language,  191,  215. 

Old  Saxon  langna;;-e,  211. 

Old  Slavonic  language,  214. 

-ohjiy,  140. 

Onomatoptcia,  the  main  eflFective  prin- 
ciple in  the  origiuiition  of  language, 
4-J5-G,  428-34. 

Onomatopoctic  theory  of  origin  of  lan- 
guage, 420. 

cr,  115. 

Organism  of  language,  what  is  meant 
Ijy.  35,  40. 

Origin  of  language,  approximation  to 
it  by  historical  research,  397-8;  doc- 
trine of  divine  origin,  in  what  sense 
alone  true,  399-403  ;  due  to  an 
external  inducement,  the  desire  of 
communiiation,  403-5;  language  not 
originat('<l  l)y  thought,  but  by  men 
for  the  uses  of  ihougiit,  405-21  ;  char- 
ut  teri>tic  mental  action  of  men,  lead- 
ing to  it,  414-18,  438-40;  beginning;) 
of  language,  of  wlnit  kind,  421-0, 
e}:<'uiplihid  in  beginnings  of  Indo- 
European  language,  250-01  ;  various 
theories  to  aci'ount  tor  their  produc- 
tion, 420-7;  onomatopd'ia,  or  imita- 
tion oliiatural  sounds,  the  main  eili- 
cienl  principle,  427-34,  437. 


Orochon,  Tungusic  tribes,  311 
Oscan  language,  165,  220. 
Osmanli.  I  urkish,  314. 
Osseiic  language,  192,  224. 
Os-ianic  poems,  217. 
Ostiaks,  language  of.  309. 
Oiouii  language,  348  note. 
Ottoman   1  urkisli.  314. 
OHfj'h/,  uiced,  uivittd.  111. 

P,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  4t}5. 

jxigan,  131. 

j'Of/e,  387. 

I'alatal  series  of  articulations,  91. 

Pali  language,  225. 

Papuans,  language  of,  339. 

jj(ircl(/iieii(,  130. 

I'arsis,  and  their  language,  223-3. 

Passives,  origin  of,  in  Indo-European 
language,  208. 

Past  time,  Indo-European  verbal  formi 
indicating,  267-8. 

Pazend  laiiguage,  223. 

Pegu,  language  of,  336. 

Pehlevi  language,  223. 

Permian  language,  309. 

Permutation  of  consonants  in  Germanic 
languages,  97-8. 

Persian  or  Iranian  branch  of  Indo- 
European  languages,  192.  198,222-4. 

Person,  verbal  endings  of,  their  origin, 
75,  260-7,  303,  319;  their  loss  in 
English,  75-7;  they  distinguish  gen- 
der in  Semitic,  303;  double  form  of 
tirst  person  in  Pol^'uesian  languages, 
339. 

Peru,  its  culture,  347;  its  mode  of  writ- 
ing, 450. 

Peshito,  Syriac  Bible-version,  298. 

Petra,  inscriptions  of,  29!>. 

peii'vlcuiii,  140. 

Phenician  language,  294-5,  297 ;  alpha- 
bet of,  401-2;  i'ts  diffusion,  402-3. 

Phonetic  change,  27-31,  42-3,  51,  69^ 
98;  how  bniught  about,  28,  42,  09; 
most  rife  in  compound  forms,  70; 
aids  the  constructive  processes  of 
language,  73-4;  its  destructive  ac- 
tion, 74-87  ;  conversion  of  sounds 
into  one  another,  87-94;  this  depei:  i- 
ent  on  the  mode  of  physical  produc- 
tion of  sounds,  87-01  ;  its  causes  only 
partially  explainable,  95-7  ;  permuta- 
tion of'  consonants,  peci.liar  phonetic 
change  in  (iernumic  languages,  97-8. 

Phonetic  princii)le  in  writing,  its  de- 
velopment in  Egyptian  writing,  454; 
its  introduction  into  L'lline^e.  156; 
phonetic   cuneiform,   400  ;    steps  of 


INDEX. 


501 


development  of   a    piirt-lv  phonetic 
alphabet,  460-63. 

Thonetic  spelling  for  English,  467-70. 

Phrases,  formation  of,  1 16. 

Plivsical  causes,  their  effect  on  lan- 
guage, 138,  152-3. 

Physical  evidence  of  ra-e,  compared 
v.ith  linguistic.  370-82,  3:^7. 

Physical  sciences,  analogies  of  linguis- 
tic science  with,  46-7,  52. 

Physical  structure  of  men  does  not  de- 
termine their  language,  371-2. 

Physical  terms  converted  to  intellectual 
and  moral,  111-13. 

Pictuie-writing,  450-53  ;  its  analogy 
Avith  onomatopoetic  speech,  451. 

Plan  of  this  work,  8-10. 

-i>/e,  62 

2'hnse,  113. 

Plural,  irregular  and  regular  in  Eng- 
lish, 78-9,  82-3;  in  Imlo-European 
language,  272-3;  in  Scythian.  310; 
])luralizing  wurds  in  Chinese,  335. 

Polabian  language,  214 

Polish  language.  191,  214. 

Polynesiii.  languages  of,  3-37-40. 

Poly  synthetic  structure  of  American 
languages,  348-9;  of  Basque,  354; 
traces  of  it  in  Hungarian,  349;  poly- 
synthetic  class,  363. 

pono  (Eatin),  derivatives  of,  in  Eng- 
nsh,  120-21. 

Pooh-pooh  theory  of  origin  of  lan- 
guage, 426. 

Portuguese  language,  189,  219. 

possi-ss,  112. 

Possessive  case  in  English,  77,  82,  274. 

rniAt^  107. 

Pott,  Professor  A.  E.,  referred  to,  5. 

Prakrit  languages,  225. 

predih,  262. 

Prefixes,  their  rarity  in  Indo-European 
language,  292;  their  prevalence  in 
Polynesian,  339;  in  African,  344-5. 

Prepositions,  in  Indo-European  lan- 
guage, 274,  276,  292. 

Present  tense   in    Indo-European   lan- 
guage, special  theme  of,  269. 
f}iUst,  102. 
'rocess  of  linguistic  growth,  what  it  is, 
154. 

Proc.!S?es  of  linguistic  growth  —  see 
Change,  linguistic. 

f  ronominal  roots,  Indo-European,  258- 
9;  whether  primitive,  261. 

Pronouns,  their  nature,  258;  derivation, 
in  Iudo-Euro])ean  language,  258-9; 
declension,  275;  part  played  by  pro- 
nouns in  form-making,  266,  27i,  290, 


303,  319:  pronouns  as  evidences  oi 
Indo-European  unitv,  194;  examplei 
196. 

Proper  names,  derivation  of,  105. 

prifposc,  112. 

Provencal  language,  164,  218,  219 

Pimic  language,  297,  298. 

Pushto  language  —  see  Afghan. 

(L  the  letter,  derivation  of,  465,  466. 
qute.-,  113. 

Quippos,  Peruvian  substitute  for  writ 
ing,  450. 

i?,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  465. 

Kabbinic  Hebrew.  297. 

Pace,  relation  of  language  to,  14,  160- 

61   371-2;  value  of  language  as  evi* 

dence  of,  370-76.  381 
Paces,  dilfereut  advantage  gained  from 

language  by,  446-7. 
Rask,  Professor  Kasmns,  referred  to,  5. 
Kate  of  linguistic  change,  its  variety 

and  the  circumstances   affecting  it, 

31-2,  137-9,  148-53. 
rend,  80. 

Reason  and  instinct,  438-9. 
red  tape,  125. 
Reduplication,  in  Indo-European  verb 

267-8:  in  Polynesian,  338-9. 
KeHectiveness,  different  degrees  of,  in 

the  processes  of  word-making,  40-41, 

50-51,  121-4. 
Reflexive    or   middle   forms    of    Indo- 
European  verbs,  268. 
reifjn,  468. 
Relational  and  auxiliary  words,  117-20; 

in  monosyllabic  languages,  335-7. 
Relationship,  names  of,  as  signs  of  In- 
do-European unitv,  195;  examples, 

196. 
Relative  words,  their  derivation,  114. 
reliable,  40-41.' 
Renan,  M.  Ernest,  refen^ed  to,  vii.  note 

177  note,  284-6. 
reproach,  113. 

Rhjeto-Romanic  language,  189,  218. 
right,  113. 
Rig-Yeda,  226. 
Romaic,  or  Modern   Greek,  language. 

221. 
Romanic  languages,  their  origin,  16-5-8, 

189  :    age^    literature,  etc.,  218-19  ; 

futures  of,  118. 
romantic,  131. 
Roots,  monosyllabic,  the  germs  of  Indo 

European  language,  255-66,  27t-86; 

their  sufticiency,  257;   their  division 

into  pronominal  and  verbal,  258--y 


502 


INDEX. 


261 ;  examples,  259 ;  their  sie^nifi- 
cance,  259-60,  285;  how  far  ahso- 
lutely  pri.nitive,  201-4;  difliciilties 
and  objections  answered,  250-7.  200- 
66,  279-8^> ;  development  of  intiective 
speech  from  them,  I'OG-TT,  280;  roots 
at  the  basis  of  all  lin*;uistic  develop- 
ment, 289,  397;  triliteral  Semitic 
roots,  3i»l  ;  tixedness  of  Scythian 
roots,  317;  roots  of  l*olyne-ian  lan- 
guui^e,  338:  of  Egyptian.  342:  roots 
of  Chinese  and  other  monosyllal)ic 
languages,  their  words  also,  330-32, 
334-7;  various  tre  itment  of  roots,  in 
langu'jges  of  different  structure,  3()0; 
futility  of  comparison  of  roots  of  dif- 
ferent families,  392-4  ;  roots,  how 
originated,  426-34;  of  what  charac- 
ter and  office,  423-6;  their  scantiness 
at  the  outset,  434. 

rubber^  130. 

Russian  language,  191,  214;  its  syn- 
thetic character,  281. 

Ruthenian  language,  214. 

-s,  as  ending,  in  English,  of  third  per- 
son singular  present  of  verbs,  63,  93, 
207 :  of  possessive  case,  82 ;  of  plu- 
ral, 82. 

Sabean  language,  299. 

Sabellian  or  Sabine  language,  220. 

Samaritan  language,  297. 

Samovedic  branch  of  Scvthian  lan- 
guage, 309-10. 

Sanskrit  language,  150,192,  225-9:  its 
intrusion  into  India,  201:  its  imjjor- 
tance  to  Indo-European  philologv,  4, 
228-9. 

Santal  language,  327. 

Sassanian  inscriptions,  223. 

Scandinavian  group  of  Germanic  lan- 
guages, 188,  210,  212. 

Schlegels.  the  brothers  August  AVillnhn 
and  I'riedrich  von,  referred  to.  5. 

Schlciiher,  I'rolessor  August,  quoted  or 
referred  to,  vi.,  47  note,  103  note,  200, 
203,  214  note,  272  note,  303  note,  331 
niite;  his  system  of  morphological 
notation  explained,  304-7. 

S(7/""«t'r,  38. 

Science  of  language  —  see  Linguistic 
science. 

Sovtiiian  or  .Altaic  family  of  languages, 
308-21,  324-28:  its  branches,  their 
age  autl  literature,  and  hi>tory  of  the 
races  sptiaking  them,  308-15;  uncer- 
tainty of  the  tie  connecting  them, 
31.5-iO,  320-21,  324;  ch  iracteristic 
Atructural  features,  316-20. 


second,  108-9. 

Semitic  alphabet,  461-3. 

Semitic  family  of  languages,  234,  294« 
3o8;  its  branches,  their  age  and  lit- 
erature, and  history  of  the  racei 
speaking  them,  2:>4-300;  character- 
istic structural  features,  300-30(1,  300- 
61;  triliteral  roots,  301-3:  internal 
flexion,  301,  301;  conjiigali  .n,  303, 
declension,  304:  syntax,  304;  stiff- 
ness of  meaning  and  peisistente  of 
form  in  Semitic  words,  304-5:  as- 
serted connection,  with  this  family, 
of  Egyptian  and  other  African  dia- 
lects, 300-7,  343;  of  Indo-European 
family,  307,  394. 

Semivowels,  91. 

Servian  language,  191,  214. 

.sere??,  190. 

Shah-Xameh,  Persian  epic  of  Firdusi, 
223,  325. 

s//"/7and  will  86,  118. 

Shelter,  analogy  between  language 
and.  401-3. 

Sliemitic  family  —  see  Semitic. 

Shi-King,  Chinese  classic,  332. 

-ship,  GO. 

Sliosiionee  language,  350. 

Siamese  language,  336. 

Sibilants,  ill". 

Sigi-mimd  of  Germany,  as  language- 
maker,  30. 

Signilication  of  words,  changes  of,  100- 
123. 

Silent  letters  in  English  words,  28. 

Sinai,  inscriptions  of,  299. 

Sioux  language,  350. 

Siryanian  language,  309. 

si.<tvr.  387. 

Skipetar  language  —  see  Albanian. 

slnve,  131. 

Slavic  or  Slavonic  branch  of  Indo- 
Kuropean  languages,  191,  213-15. 

Slovakian  language,  214. 

Slovenian  language,  214. 

sniilh.  105. 

Siiiilh,  105. 

Smitiisonian  Institution,  353. 

Social  nature  of  man,  relation  of  speech 
to,  4(13-5,  440-41. 

Sonant  and  surd  letters,  91;  their  eX' 
changes,  92-3. 

Sorbian  language,  214. 

Sinimi,  387. 

Siuimls,  articulate  —  see  Articulate. 

South -African  family  of  language! 
344-5. 

sovereign,  468. 

tp(ike,  29. 


t 


INDEX. 


503 


Spanish  language,  189,  219;  German 
and  Arabic  elements  in,  368 

Spirants,  91;  their  derivation,  92. 

spirit,  112. 

spl  'sh,  425. 

State  languages,  so  called,  36-3. 

Stointhal,  Profes^ior  H.,  referred  to,  vi., 
3:^.8  note,  307,  448  note,  4-50  note. 

Slriicture,  characteristic,  of  different 
tamilie-'  of  language,  291-4,  357-69. 

Study  of  language  —  tee  Linguistic 
science. 

»iiij^ct.  112. 

Subjunctive  mood,  origin  of,  268;  loss 
of,  in  English,  86-7. 

substantiiil,  112. 

Substantive  verb,  derivation  of,  115; 
wanting  in  Semitic,  304. 

such,  bl. 

Suffixes,  how  produced,  57-64;  their 
universal  presence  in  Indo-European 
words,  65,  292 ;  primary  and  second- 
ary, 255. 

s?<«, '103-4. 

Suras,  language  of,  327. 

Surd  and  sonant  letters,  91;  their  ex- 
changes, 92. 

sure.  111. 

Swabian  diaU^ct  of  Old  High-German, 
211;  of  Middle  4igh-German,  163, 
212. 

Swedish  language,  2i2. 

Swift,  Dean,  carieature  of  etymological 
processes  by,  38.J-iJ0. 

sycj>j)fi'int,  130. 

Syllabic  modes  of  writing,  460-61. 

Syllal)le,  nature  of.  89. 

Symbolism,  signs  of,  in  Semitic  word- 
formation,  302  ;  in  beginnings  of 
speech,  430. 

Symbols,  forerunners  of  writing,  449. 

syiiip  itlitj,  112. 

Svnonvmous  words,  110. 

Syriac'  language,  2;J4,  297,  298,  306; 
"alphabet,  its  diffusion,  313,  402. 

Syro- Arabian  family  —  see  Semitic. 

Talmuds,  238. 

Tamil  language,  326. 

'I'amulian  languages,  326. 

Taruiiuis,  2y8. 

Tart.iric  or  !  ataric  family  —  see  Scyth- 
ian. 

7'nrhii  and  Titnr.  38. 

1  3chnii-al  vocabularies,  their  relation 
to  a  language,  19,  23,  150. 

tehitrmti,  40. 

'ete'f/rnph,  83,  146. 

feliaga  or  Telugu  language,  326. 


Tenst.s,  development  of  Indo-  European 
266-70;  Semitic,  303:  Scythian,  320; 
modern  preterits  in  Germanic  lan- 
guages, 79-82,  117;  Engii-h  perfects 
and  futures,  117-19;  Komanic  fu- 
tures.  118. 

Terminologv,  artificial  production  of  a, 
122. 

-ill,  ending  of  third  person  singular 
present  in  English  verbs,  03,  93,  207. 

-th.  noun  suliix,  04. 

than,  115. 

tlhmk,  111. 

i/ott,  pronoun,  430. 

that,  conjunction,  114. 

the,  114,  115. 

thm,  196. 

Thought,  relation  of  language  and,  40-3- 
21 ;  the  two  not  identical,  405-11 ;  not 
coterminous,  411 ;  how  far  thought  is 
carried  on  in  language,  412-13:  its 
processes  aided  by  speech,  417-21; 
such  thought  as  oars  only  made  pos- 
sible by  expression,  420;  insuliicieucy 
of  latiguage  as  expression  of  thought, 
20,  lOJ-il,  400-7. 

three,  I'JO. 

thriniq,  2^2. 

Tiberius  of  Rome,  as  language-maker, 
3(J. 

Tibetan  lanc;uage.  337 

Time,  peculiar  treatment  of,  in  Semitic 
verb.  303. 

to,  intliiitive  sign,  119. 

io/j(jft//(iuls,iils,  72. 

Traditii)n,  tiie  means  by  which  a  lan- 
guage is  kept  in  existence,  23:  its 
defects,  and  their  consecjuences,  27- 
32;  cau-es  aiding  its  strictness,  148- 
51;  tradition  of  speech  and  knowl- 
edge togethe:-,  4U-5;  its  guiding  in- 
tluenee  on  ihe  mind,  44.5-0. 

Triliterality  of  Semitic  roots,  301-3. 

Tmubadours,  songs  ot',  218. 

title,  04,  179. 

truth,  04. 

I'udas,  language  of,  327. 

Tulu  language,  326. 

Tunijusic  branch  (>f  Scvthian  language, 
312. 

Turanian  family,  so  called,  309;  origin 
and  lirst  application  of  tiie  name.  325. 

tuikr-y,  130. 

Turkish  branch  of  Scythian  langv.age, 
191-2:  divisions,  age,  literaMire.  etc, 
310-11,  313-14;  characteristic  .slracl- 
ural  features,  198,  31S-20. 

Turkomans,  language  of,  311. 

tivo^  196. 


504 


INDEX. 


C,  the  '.etter,  derivation  of,  4ti5. 
UgTJaii,  or  Finno-Ihingarian,  branch  of 

Scythian    langiia.i^e,    IM),   320,    iiGl; 

age,  literutiire,  etc.,  314. 
Uigur  Turkish  language,  311,  313;  al- 

piiabet,  313,  402. 
Uhila.'s,  Gothic  bishop,  213. 
Unibrian  hniguage,  ioS,  220. 
umli'istitwl,  113,  133. 
Unity  of  the  hum  an  race,  not  demon- 
strable   bv    evidence    of   language, 

383-U4. 
Ural-Altaic  family  —  see  Scj'thian. 
Urdu  language,  224. 
Usjage,   the   sole   .-tandard    of   correct 

speech,  14,  32,  30-40,  128;  good  and 

bad  usage,  10-17,  22. 
Usbeks,  language  of,  311. 

r,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  464,  465, 
400. 

Value  of  language,  440-47. 

Viirietv  of  expression  for  same  thought, 
407-9. 

Variety  of  human  races,  not  demonstra- 
ble by  evidence  of  language,  384-5. 

Vater,  referred  to,  4. 

Vedas,  Hindu  scripture,  and  their  lan- 
jiuage,  225-7. 

Vei  language  and  alphabet,  346. 

f<  Hc/,  202 

Vendidad,  geographical  notices  in,  201 
note. 

Verijal  roots,  259. 

Verbs  and  verbal  forms,  their  develop- 
ment in  Indo  Euroj)  an  languages, 
200-70;  Semitic  verb,  303;  Scythian, 
319-20;  I'olynesian,  338;  question 
Avhether  verbs  or  P'^uns  are  earliest, 
423-0. 

reritij,  178. 

nz.,  459. 

Vocal)u!ary,  different  extent  of,  in  per- 
sons of  dift'erent  age  and  condition, 
18-20;  changes  ot',  25-7;  its  increase, 
25-0,41,  139;  its  reduction,  27,  98- 
100,  139;  impregnation  with  fuller 
knowledge,  123,  141;  enrichment  by 
borrowing,  143-5. 

Vocabulary,    ICnglish,    its    extent,   18; 

part  of  it  used   by  dilferent  classes, 

l.'<-20  :    fonnd    in     Sliaks])eare    and 

Milton,  23;  its  changes,  2')-7,  140-47. 

Vocabidary,  primitive  Indo-Kuropean 
attempted  restoration  of,  2or--0. 

Voice,  as  means  of  expression    421-3. 

Volga,  .Mongol  tribes  on,  312. 

Volseian  language,  220. 

Voltaire  on  etymology,  386. 


Vowel  and  consonant,  relation  M,  89 
91. 

Vowels,  changes  of  value  of,  94-5; 
classification  and  harmonic  sequenc« 
of,  in  Scythi;in  languages,  318;  im- 
perfect designation  of,  in  some  alpha- 
bets, 461-3. 

11',  the  letter,  derivation  of,  466. 

AVallachian  language,  189,  218. 

tvds,  115. 

AN'edgwood,  Professor  H.,  referred  to, 
vi.  note. 

Welsh  language,  190,  217-18. 

which ^  57. 

idio^  relative,  115. 

whole,  242. 

will  and  shall,  86,  118. 

Woguls,  language  of,  309. 

li'omtn,  468. 

Words,  mere  signs,  not  depictions  of 
ideas,  20-22,  32,  70-71.  Ill;  the  sole 
tie  between  words  and  ideas  a  mental 
association,  14,  32,  409:  words  poste- 
rior to  the  conceptions  they  repre- 
sent, 125-6,  411-12;  their  value  to 
us  dependent  on  conventional  usage, 
not  etymology,  14,  128-9,  132-4,  404. 
409;  how  far  we  think  in  or  with 
words,  410-20;  word-making  a  his- 
torical process,  120-9  ;  history  of 
words,  wh}^  studied,  129;  linguistic 
science  founded  on  their  studv,  54-5, 
its  method,  238-9,  247-8  ;'  words 
made  up  of  elements  originally  in- 
dependent, 55-07  ;  their  phonetic 
changes,  09-98  ;  their  changes  ot 
meaning,  100-121;  identity  of  words 
and  roots  in  monosyllabic  languages 
330-31. 

u'oi-k\  30. 

Wotiak  language,  309. 

Writing,  auxiliary  and  complement 
of  speech,  447 ;  parallelisms  between 
its  origin  and  historv  and  those 
of  speech,  448.  449.  4'51,  453,  456 
457,458,459;  desire  of  communica- 
tion its  primary  impulse,  448;  not  at 
first  connected  with  and  sui)ordinated 
to  spoken  language,  449;  its  t'orernn- 
ners  and  historical  beginnings.  449- 
50:  picture-writing,  450-52;  hiero- 
glyphs, 452  seq.;  Kgy})tian  writinj^ 
452-5;  Chinese,  455-^9;  ciineit'onn 
4.59-60;  syllabic,  460-01 ;  Semitic  oi 
riienician,  401-3  ;  Greek  and  iti 
derivatives,  403  seq.  ;  Latin,  461 
Knglish,  466. 

wrony^  113. 


1 


INDEX. 


)05 


wrought,  30,  111. 

X,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  466. 

r,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  464,  466 
Yakut  language,  310-11. 
Yamato,  Japanese  dialect,  328. 
•^c,  yuu,  30. 
1  eniseau  language,  355. 


Yukagiri  language,  330. 

Z,  the  letter,  derivation  of,  456 

Zend-avesta.  201  note,  222. 

Zend  language,  150,  222. 

Zingian  family  —  see  South- Afi:ic*a. 

Zoroaster,  222. 

zounds,  211. 

Zulu  language,  344-6. 


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